The Whole of the Moon
by AzaleaMarie
Summary: A world in which Harry died in the Forbidden Forest and in which Voldemort and his Death Eaters reign supreme is not what Ginny Weasley had ever imagined for her future. When more tragedy strikes Harry Potter's remaining allies, and Ginny is captured, can she adjust to the new life she has been offered? AU. Rated T for violence and implied sexual themes. Was 'A New Life'.
1. The Capture and The Separation

**Disclaimer:** The following is a work of fan fiction using characters from the world of Harry Potter, which is owned by J.K. Rowling. The characters, creatures and other related descriptions are also owned by J.K. Rowling. I will not be receiving any monies in relation to this fan fiction. I have also used the HP Lexicon for some minor details.

**Summary:** Since Harry Potter's death five years ago at the hands of Lord Voldemort, his remaining allies are in constant hiding. They scrounge for food and traipse the lonely catacombs of London in a bid to remain hidden. But what happens one day when necessity begs them to leave their safe haven and risk it all?

* * *

**THE WHOLE OF THE MOON  
**

**Chapter One: The Capture and the Separation**

**CELEBRATIONS IGNITE THE WIZARDING WORLD!**

_By Rita Skeeter._

The Daily Prophet is proud to announce the five year reign of our most beloved supreme ruler, the Dark Lord. Today there will be widespread celebrations marking this most important anniversary for all witches and wizards, so why not head down to Godric's Hollow and witness the consecration of the Dark Lord's first monument? Or trek up to Hogwarts for a re-enactment of that fateful night five years ago which saw our supreme ruler overcome his greatest enemy, Harry Potter? If these celebrations are too much for you, then make your way to Diagon Alley for a simple procession of the Dark Lord's most trusted followers. The cream of the Dark Lord's crop will all be in attendance, so bring along a gift as a gesture of your thankfulness.

This five year anniversary wouldn't be complete without the story of the Dark Lord's victory over Harry Potter. It is with great pleasure that I can relate this story to all those who are worthy to read it, having been able to meet the scar headed boy on many occasions, but I will not be dwelling on that. Our story begins on May 2nd 1997, in which the Dark Lord triumphed and The-Boy-Who-Lived died. The Dark Lord had placed his most faithful servant, Severus Snape, in charge of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry after its not-so-innocent former Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, met an untimely end. The school flourished under Severus Snape's care without the troublesome Harry Potter and his friends, but this was not to last. The aforementioned date arrived, and Harry Potter rushed onto the scene in a misguided blaze of misplaced glory, firing up his foolish supporters into fighting with him and sacrificing themselves for him.

A tragic battle ensued, and many of the Dark Lord's most trusted followers lost their lives, but not before they could purge the Wizarding World of blood traitors and half-breeds. The Dark Lord was forgiving, he extended his opulent hand out in mercy to Harry Potter, the Dark Lord gave Harry Potter a chance to redeem himself, and to stop his friends from sacrificing themselves. However, Harry Potter was not to be swayed from his arrogance, and the battle continued until he finally felt some idea of guilt and conscience. Harry Potter disappeared from the fighting at Hogwarts, and was never to be seen alive again. His broken corpse was brought back to Hogwarts, placed on the front steps and made an example of. Where he is buried now, no one knows. Those who saw that he was dead and accepted it, joined the Dark Lord almost immediately. Those who were just as arrogant as Harry Potter fled, some died in the chase and some have not been seen since that wondrous day. Perhaps today would be the day to hunt those remainders down, those drains on the Wizarding World, then today will be a truly triumphant celebration!

Turn to page five for further stories on the Dark Lord's rise to power.

Ginny threw the newspaper down in disgust; it had been the third time she had read it in two weeks. It had been a lucky find initially, for them to get some news of their home had to be a good thing. Now Ginny was not so sure, hadn't they been better off not knowing? Hadn't they been better off not reading those slanderous and disrespectful lies? Ginny thought so. Reading that snivelling drivel made her feel utterly sick, mostly because she knew that the Prophet was printing what it had to print; such brown nosing could not be possible unless someone was coerced into it. And it had to be Rita Skeeter, people like her seemed as though they would survive the end of the world, and it was always people like her; manipulative, persuasive, adaptable. They were barely managing to survive. Hermione was generally good at making something out of nothing, and the cans of food swiped from the muggle food stores were very helpful. Without any staff to keep the shops safe, it made it very easy to walk in there and take stuff, especially when they needed new clothing.

London was teeming with useful shops, and having access to the underground tunnels made it easier to move from target to target. The fact that there were barely any muggles left also helped, though Ginny disliked admitting it, since now it was easier to perform magic without having to _Obliviate_ someone every time you decided to do a spell. The fact that many had been put to death or put into camps made her feel worse, but it had definitely eased their process when tracking down a viable entrance to the tunnel they had now been in since they had fled Hogwarts five years ago. The tunnel had been accessed from an opening in Regent's Park, which Hermione seemed to have visited before but didn't divulge the story behind it like she would have. Having to witness your best friend's mangled body being chucked on the front steps of Hogwarts did do something terrible to Hermione's sense of confidence, and Ron didn't really bother trying to argue anymore, even if he disagreed with Hermione. Neville and Luna had escaped with them too, and both were just as scarred from the battle, mentally and physically. Neville bore some tremendous wounds, despite Hermione's attempts to heal them and Luna barely spoke anymore, unless she had something profound and serious to say. They were all affected by the war, and Ginny was no exception.

Ginny and Ron had suffered the loss of their large family. They knew for definite that Fred and Charlie had both died; Fred during that infamous battle and Charlie immediately after it. They had a feeling that their mother and father had been captured, tortured and killed, but they couldn't know for sure, and the remaining brothers had disappeared. The family had scattered themselves at their father's request in the hope that they would survive if they weren't all found together. Other than that, Ron and Ginny didn't know anything further, they barely even knew what had happened to all their other friends and the Order of the Phoenix. At this point, knowing was not an issue, surviving was and that was all that mattered to them presently. Ginny coped by remembering her family in happier times, the thought kept her going especially during winter when it seemed like they could barely even leave their sanctuary to find food, and it allowed her to have some hope that they could be a family again. Despite this, thinking about Harry made her feel hopeless, but if she thought about her family thinking about Harry was inevitable; he had been part of their family since Ron's second year at Hogwarts. She thought about those lost moments that they could have had and the moments that they managed to have, even in such a short space of time. But, Ginny couldn't shake the feeling that Ron and Hermione had been affected the most by the image of Harry's body, tossed onto the stone and battered. Ginny had no qualms anymore in believing that Ron and Hermione had cared a great deal more about Harry than she had, and she knew Harry had felt the same about them, that he cared more for them than for her. Nevertheless, she had still loved him. It hurt all the more when she had to witness Neville and Luna taking comfort in each other, and watch Ron and Hermione cope with each other; truly, she felt lonely.

"Ginny, why are you reading that rubbish again?" Hermione's voice cut sharply through Ginny's thoughts. "You know what it does to you... I'm going to burn it."

"I'm fine, Hermione," Ginny replied shortly.

"You've been sitting like that for ten minutes, now," Hermione said emphatically, reaching to touch Ginny's arm.

"I'm over it," Ginny said in a hard tone, moving away. She looked away from Hermione before she could feel guilty and noticed Luna on her own, asleep. "Where's Neville?"

"He's gone on food duty," Hermione answered.

Ginny looked at her finally, a questioning look in her eyes. "Why would he leave Luna?" she said suspiciously. "He's been adamant that he doesn't want to leave her side for the past two weeks."

Hermione sighed and sat closer to Ginny, the wall scraping behind her as she shifted. "He thinks she is going to die," she whispered, her face on the brink of crumbling, but she managed to keep herself together. "You know we have tried all the healing magic we know; I think he just needs time on his own."

"She won't die, Luna is stronger than Neville thinks," Ginny said, more hopeful than she actually believed. Luna had gotten sick two weeks ago, from what they had no idea, and she deteriorated quickly despite their best efforts. Outwardly, she appeared to be in perfect health so they assumed that something terrible was happening internally. All they could do was watch as she got worse and worse. Ginny looked around as she heard movement, seeing Ron rise from his bed. "You think Luna is going to be OK, don't you, Ron?" she asked, giving him an imploring look.

Ron didn't answer immediately, but looked from Ginny to Hermione with a bemused expression. "Course she will be OK," he finally answered, the pause contradicting his words. At least the sentiment was there, not that it would keep Luna alive. "Where's Neville?" he asked abruptly, trying to cover his obvious anxiety.

"He's out to get food," Ginny sighed, slumping back against the wall. She couldn't be bothered to talk anymore, what was there to talk about? Everything had been exhausted, the only interesting topics being what their next movements would be and it always turned out to be staying where they were. Their situation was truly hopeless, no matter what Ron or Hermione would try to convince her of and the length of their hardships just made that hopelessness even more concrete and permanent. Honestly, it was not that bad down in the tunnel since Hermione and Luna had made it as homely as possible using all manner of charms, Transfiguration and everything else they sourced from above. But it could never compare to freedom, to playing Quidditch, to walking through the halls of Hogwarts and going to Hogsmeade with a friend or lover. Ginny particularly lamented the fact that she hadn't been able to finish her education. Everything about the world was wrong, and she no longer understood it.

"Hello, Luna," Hermione's voice was soft and sympathetic as Luna roused from her deep sleep. She only mumbled in response. "Do you want some water? Food?"

"Water, please," Luna replied, her voice cracking as she attempted to get the words out. Watching Luna was the tip of the hopelessness Ginny felt. Luna, who had always been optimistic and friendly despite people shunning her, wasting away was unthinkable. After she had finished gulping the water down, Luna looked around slowly, showing Ginny her full face. It shocked her how pale she had become, they all lacked sun but Luna was suffering the most, she had purple lines under her once bright eyes, and her blonde hair lacked that sunshine it used to hold, now it just looked dull and lifeless. The gauntness of her face was the most worrying feature, and Ginny could no longer bear to look at her. "Where's Neville?" she asked suddenly, as if panicked by his absence.

"Don't worry," Hermione soothed. "He's just gone on food duty. I think he needed time alone."

Ron looked at Ginny sceptically and she nodded in agreement. "Hermione, when did Neville go?" he questioned slowly, wanting to be careful.

"About a couple of hours ago," she said offhandedly. "Why?"

"Well..." began Ron tentatively. "Don't you think that is quite a long time?"

Hermione shot Ron a dark look. "Not at all," she said in a hard voice, gesturing to the fragile Luna. "Neville is quite capable of looking after himself, and he's not stupid."

Luna laid a hand on Hermione's arm as if to thank her for the reassurance, and she fell back against the pillow soundlessly. "I need to sleep a little more," she said quietly. "Wake me when Neville returns."

"We will, Luna," Hermione promised.

After a few minutes in silence, Ron checked Luna over quickly, checking to see if she had gone back to sleep. "He's been gone for bloody ages now, Hermione," he said quietly but in a firm tone. "Doesn't that strike you as a bit odd? It doesn't take this long to get food, that food place is only up the road and it's still packed full."

"I know that, Ron," Hermione said through gritted teeth, "but I was trying to show a bit of tact in front of Luna."

"We can hardly go looking for him, Ron," Ginny offered. "Maybe he got a bit distracted, went into the clothes shops."

Ron gave her an incredulous look. "Are you serious? Neville? In a clothes shop?"

"Well, he did need some new clothes," Hermione said rationally. "And so does Luna."

"This is what I think," Ron said, carrying on looking disbelieving. "I think he has gone to find those tablet things you were talking about the other day. He's got it into his head that these muggle things can help Luna."

Hermione scoffed. "Neville backed down when I told him they wouldn't work," she explained confidently, but the nervousness in her eyes betrayed her true thoughts. "We can't possibly use them as we don't know what is wrong with her. I told him those exact words."

Ron moved towards Hermione, taking her hand. "Neville is desperate, Hermione," he said softly. "I would probably do the same thing for you, no matter how stupid the idea is."

Hermione sighed, a sign that she accepted the possibility of his theory. "It is not entirely flawed," she said quietly. "They could work, if only we knew what was wrong with her, then we could get the right medication for her."

Ginny felt a sudden draft and it sent a chill down her spine; it was a sure indication that the hatch to the tunnel had been opened. Assuredly, the sound of the hatch banging shut confirmed her suspicions. All three of them withdrew their wands; they knew the routine, no matter how many times someone left the tunnel, when they returned this is how they were to be welcomed; with a wand in their face and a harshly-spoken question. Upon seeing Neville enter the warm light beaming down from the ceiling, Ginny almost lowered her wand, but Hermione's sharp voice reminded her of the importance of keeping it raised. "What spell did I cast upon you in first year?"

Neville looked taken aback, but answered swiftly. "Petrificus Totalus."

They all lowered their wands with a sigh of relief, allowing Neville to pass through.

"Where have you been, you stupid git?" Ron said angrily. "Hermione said you've been gone hours."

"I made a detour," Neville replied shortly, his voice telling them that he didn't want to tolerate an argument.

"A detour? A _bloody_ detour?" Ron's voice gradually getting louder. "We've been worrying about you, we thought you were dead, you great -."

"Ron, shut up!" Hermione whispered forcefully. "I don't want Luna waking up to you shouting."

"I'm sorry," Neville said, his eyebrows knitting together, worried. "But I had to go there, I couldn't stop thinking about what you said, Hermione."

Ginny felt so much sorrow for Neville in that moment, his eyes on the verge of tears as he opened his rucksack and poured out nearly a hundred small square and rectangular boxes, all different colours but all rattling like they held sweets inside. They must be the tablets that Hermione was talking about, the things that muggles relied on to get better.

"Will you look at them, Hermione?" Neville said, almost begging. "One of them might be able to help her."

Hermione looked torn between being rational and trying to help her friend, but finally she sighed. "I will look, Neville," she said softly, "but I cannot guarantee that any of these will help her."

Neville's face broke into a smile, a very rare sight for any of them. "Thank you so much, Hermione, you are a great friend," he said, his voice nearly joyful at the prospect of at least some hope. He left the rucksack on the floor and made his way over to Luna, sitting on the edge of her bed and taking her hand. He leant down and said her name ever so quietly, not wanting to wake her so harshly. "Luna," he called a little louder, raising to a whisper now, "Luna, I've got you something that might help."

Luna was stirring, and seeing her tiny frame was heartbreaking, especially when she gave the most breathtaking smile to Neville. Ginny shivered again; seeing them made her feel awful, lonely and selfish. How could she begrudge them when they could only have moments together? Seeing them together made her value her life all the more, no matter how tiresome or hard it had become, at least she had her life, at least she wasn't dying.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

All five of them whipped their heads round to locate the source of the unfamiliar voice and standing in the tunnel beyond the entrance were four black robed figures, their faces uncovered and twisted into looks of pure cruelty. Death Eaters. They all sat paralysed with fear, confusion pounding through their minds with the unadulterated instinct to run, but their bodies just wouldn't obey.

"Muggles or magicfolk?" A different voice questioned them this time.

They all remained silent, too fearful to answer.

"Muggles or magicfolk?!" The question came again, but this time it was shouted and it boomed along the tunnel, reverberating and bouncing off the walls.

"Magicfolk," Ron finally answered begrudgingly.

The Death Eaters looked at them through narrowed eyes and with suspicion. "Then show us your wands," the Death Eater demanded. "And _don't_ try anything funny or you will be facing the consequences."

They all withdrew their wands carefully, all of them ready to shoot off some spell, anything to get themselves out of harm's way. "What about hers?" the first Death Eater said harshly, pointing at Luna who looked about ready to crumble.

Neville stood in Luna's defence. "She is ill," he ground out through gritted teeth, pointing his wand threateningly now. "She can hardly move, so you will have to take our word for it."

The Death Eater stepped forward and they all pointed their wands defensively now at this sudden movement, but all he did was laugh an awful high laugh. "And you suppose so, do you?" he said humorously, his voice still full of hatred. "And what position are you in to be telling _us_ what to do?"

None of them answered, deciding to remain on the defence and keeping a constant watch on the wands pointing directly at them.

"And this one is ill?" One of the others said, his voice also suggesting that he found the whole situation amusing. "That is why you were in that muggle shop, then, boy, we were curious about that. That's why we followed you, you see, we though it rather curious that you should be rummaging around a muggle medicine shop."

"And it paid off," the second one said triumphantly, glaring at them with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "The Dark Lord will be wanting words with you."

"But he won't have use for this one," the third one said coldly. "She looks to be dying any minute soon."

"Then leave her out of this!" Neville shouted. "She is too weak to fight back!"

"We don't allow loose ends, loverboy," the first one chuckled. "_Avada Kedavra!"_ And that sickening green light shot forth with remorse, blinding Ginny as she looked directly at the merciless light.

"Luna!" Neville screamed in anguish and all Ginny heard was a resounding thump and a definite finality. Then everything seemed to happen all at once, she shot blindly from her wand any offensive spells she could remember, waiting for her vision to return and she could hear the others doing the same, screaming with anger and pain.

"Ginny, quick!" Ron yelled desperately and she tried to reach him with all her willpower, toppling over as she fell into something hard, presumably the chair she had been sitting in. But her hand slipped through what she thought was Ron's fingers and heard that familiar CRACK! which ended all her hopes of escape in a matter of seconds.

"No!" One of the voices screeched. "Don't kill her! The Dark Lord will want to question her!"

Ginny yelled at the top of her lungs, the tunnel coming back into view and she was all alone, save for the Death Eaters and the body on the floor, and she realised that it was Neville, his face turned to hers, his eyes wide open in terror and strewn with fresh tears. "Neville! Neville!" she sobbed uncontrollably, shaking him in a useless effort.

"Shut your mouth!" one of the Death Eaters shouted violently, shoving her to the ground and she gasped as her head connected with the stone floor. Ginny felt herself becoming faint, and her vision started to blur again, but she wouldn't give up without a fight.

"_Stupefy!_" she screamed, and she watched tiredly as her spell hit one of the Death Eaters square in face and sent him flying back into the bed post, a resounding smack suggesting that he wouldn't be getting up in hurry. "You bitch!" one of them exploded, but she couldn't hear anymore and soon after that, her vision gave up entirely, and the whole world went black.

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A/N: Sorry if the story seems clumped together, just isn't allowing the single line breaks. I've tried it about five times.


	2. The Interrogation and The Sentence

**Disclaimer:** The following is a work of fan fiction using characters from the world of Harry Potter, which is owned by J.K. Rowling. The characters, creatures and other related descriptions are also owned by J.K. Rowling. I will not be receiving any monies in relation to this fan fiction. I have also used the HP Lexicon for some minor details.

**Summary:** Without her wand and no one able to save her, Ginny is completely helpless in the face of Lord Voldemort and his terrifying followers.

* * *

**THE WHOLE OF THE MOON  
**

**Chapter Two: The Interrogation and The Sentence**

Her body was cold, so cold and in pain. Ginny coughed harshly as she awoke, feeling the rough, stone floor beneath her and it was freezing. The darkness was consuming too and it seemed to carry on forever, but she knew, in the back of her mind, that she was there to face Lord Voldemort and the darkness was there to strike fear into her. That or she had gone blind. In all honesty, Ginny felt that she would rather take the latter at that moment rather than die. Once Lord Voldemort came into the picture, death was inevitable and it wouldn't be fancy, she wouldn't be going down in a blaze of glory. He would finish her as he finished everyone; the Killing Curse. Harry wasn't even special enough to receive anything different. She knew it was time, mostly because she didn't have any information to give, how could she tell them where Ron, Hermione and Luna were? If she knew then she wouldn't be trapped in this darkness.

Ginny slowly pushed herself up, feeling a little faint and a dull throbbing on the side of her head. She gasped as she felt a thick mess of dried blood in her hair, so thick it was that she could smell the metallic tang. Ginny had never had a problem with blood or open wounds, but when it was coming from her skull it was an entirely different matter, the mere thought made her feel dizzy and if it hadn't been from the noise suddenly buzzing around her, she was sure she would have fainted.

"Look, look!" an excited voice shrieked. "The blood traitor is waking up!" Suddenly a harsh white light was shone on her, making her cringe back into herself. The voice laughed at her feeble movement. "Poor little red, all bloodied up!" And the laughter continued and then reverberated amongst the masses; it was truly deafening, but Ginny kept her fear tightly under wraps and managed to raise her head to peer out through the darkness. There were hundreds of figures surrounding her, shadowed but robed.

"Silence!" a high pitched voice rang out through the dark, louder than the rest but strangely quiet. "We must be hospitable to our guest; we shan't mock her degraded state."

The noise immediately ceased at the command and Ginny stiffened as she realised that it came from Lord Voldemort. Now was the moment, the moment to die, but she was damn well going to make sure she could look her murderer in the eye when it happened. "Let me see you, then," she demanded. "Don't be a coward and hide behind the shadows!"

"How dare you address the Dark Lord in such a manner?!" that voice shrieked again, and it was highly offended and violent. "I'll show you - !"

"Enough, Bella!" Voldemort said harshly. "The blood traitor has a right to see her end." With those words, the lights in the room came on all at once and Ginny saw hundreds of Death Eaters surrounding her, brazenly showing their faces since secrecy no longer mattered anymore, they were the ones in control. If anything, she and her friends should be the ones wearing the masks. She felt sick as she noticed the faces of some of her schoolmates; Nott, Parkinson, a few Ravenclaws and even some Hufflepuffs she had never learned the names of. Seeing them made her feel utterly sick, especially since the looks on their faces spoke of a personal type of loathing, as if she had done something to them so cruelly intimate that they would stand there in silent acquiescence to her fate. All she had been to them was a classmate. "You needn't be too nervous of us, Miss Weasley," came Voldemort's sibilant voice, "you can be sure of how we will treat you, there will be no mistaking that."

"If you think I am afraid, then you are sorely mistaken," Ginny replied coarsely, but her brave response was met with jeers and laughter. They knew the truth; they knew she didn't really want to die. How could she die when Harry had died in a struggle to save them?

"Foolish bravery," Voldemort said lamentably. "Typical Gryffindor..." The masses laughed in agreement, and Ginny felt the tension increase a notch. They were all anticipating the Dark Lord's next move, what would he do with the girl Weasley? Torture her? Murder her? For them, this was entertainment. "Shall we get on with the questioning, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny looked Voldemort square in his ugly, snake-like face and nodded curtly. "Might as well," she said haughtily. "Not that I have anything valuable for you."

"We shall see," Voldemort said threateningly, and he turned sharply away from her, his clothing giving him the illusion that he was slithering away. He sat down resolutely in what looked like a large throne-like chair, looking at Ginny as if she were a mere piece of dirt that was going to brushed away in a matter of moments. "My followers, who apprehended you, have led me to believe that you were with four others. Is this correct?"

"Yes," she replied since there was no point in holding back this information; they very well knew she wasn't on her own.

"Excellent. And, pray tell, remind me of who these people were," Voldemort was smirking now, if that was even possible without lips. Ginny gave him a doubtful look, not really knowing if the Death Eaters they had met had known who she had been with. "Come, come, Miss Weasley, if you don't say it out loud, then I will extract it from your mind... and it won't be pleasant."

Ginny glared at him, wondering why he didn't just do that anyway instead of engaging in all this theatricality. "I was with Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom," at this name there was another characteristic shriek from Bellatrix Lestrange, who Ginny now recognised, "Hermione Granger and my brother."

At her final words, there were some audible gasps and furious whisperings amongst Voldemort's followers. Obviously, Hermione and Ron were well-known as Harry's best friends; they would be the ultimate entertainment if they were ever captured. Voldemort was still smirking, his eyes blazing with triumph. "And which brother would that be?" he questioned, something akin to amusement in his tone. When Ginny did not reply straight away, he encouraged her to amuse his follower's ignorance lest he should be forced to amuse them in other ways.

"Ron," she replied shortly, begrudging the situation that she was in. Ginny knew that it could be worse, she could have known where they had Apparated to and Voldemort would assuredly extract that information from her without a doubt. She was glad of that small mercy; otherwise the guilt alone would have killed her, never mind Voldemort's murderous proclivities.

"I see..." Voldemort said slowly, his high voice carrying throughout the room. "Potter's inner circle remains alive, then... They will soon be dealt with. However, their location is of importance. Tell me, Miss Weasley, where are your friends?"

Ginny swallowed hard, still staring straight into Voldemort's eyes, unwilling to back down and show fear. "I do not know," she answered quietly. "If I knew then I wouldn't be here, would I? I would have Apparated with them."

Voldemort laughed a high, mirthless laugh as if he had never laughed before, as if he didn't know how to laugh. "You make a fair point, Miss Weasley," he said humorously, but the humour was gone in an instant and Ginny felt it immediately. "You must know their likely route, and you will tell me everything." She saw his wand pointing directly at her, but didn't fear it, he wasn't going to kill her yet, all he would do was torture her and she could live with that quite easily.

"We were in that tunnel for five years," she replied matter-of-factly. "It suited our needs and we travelled nowhere else. So, no, I don't have any clue about their whereabouts other than the places you would already have thought obvious."

"Yes, that tunnel was quite a stroke of genius," Voldemort admitted. "Your discovery was particularly useful in locating many of the other secret catacombs underneath the city; we found numerous muggles and blood traitors hiding below." Ginny gasped at this, she had never known of the existence of other magicfolk below ground, they had never come into contact with anyone else on their treks through London, looting the stores and scrounging for food. Voldemort must be lying, merely trying to goad her into confessing the whereabouts of her friends. But she truly did not know where they could have gone. "_Legilimens!_" Voldemort suddenly shouted and Ginny shrieked at the invasion.

Her memories of Harry were disturbed and laughed at by Voldemort, particularly when they had first kissed and the silly fumbling they engaged in. He soared through everywhere she had ever been in her living memory. Seeing Fred and Charlie again almost made her cry, it was so real, but it hurt. Every time he entered a new memory, a fresh wave of sickness and pain hit her, each time it became worse. Ginny suspected it was to do with the injury on her head. There were visions of the sandy deserts of Egypt, the River Nile and the Pyramids; then there were visions of Hogwarts, which were left quickly; her village was looked upon with mild interest; then Grimmauld Place was sifted through with excitement, from its location, to the door number, to the insides of that wretched and lonely place. They couldn't possibly be there, she thought, Hermione was not stupid enough to take them back there.

"Stop! Stop!" Ginny heard a voice shouting, and it was desperate and pitiful, thick with tears and pain. Embarrassingly, she realised that it was her own voice and she ceased her cries and shouts immediately.

"You see, Miss Weasley," Voldemort said pleasantly, "you can be quite open when you want to be. _Crucio!_"

The spell hit her forcefully, sending her skitting across the stone floor, her flesh scrapping along the rougher parts. Her body writhed and wriggled in such an explosion of pain that she had never met with before, but she refused to scream, she refused to shout. Her eyes were leaking tears in betrayal, however, but she had to allow this, she had to allow her body some relief. And then it stopped. Ginny breathed out in such forcefulness that she hadn't realised she had been holding her breath in. But the torture wasn't just going to stop there, and Ginny knew this. "_Imperio!_" he shouted another spell, and she felt something cool trickling down from her head, the spell trying to tie its strings to her limbs. "Bow to me, Miss Weasley." Ginny's mind instructed her to obey the command, subconsciously telling her that it would feel good to do so, so she did, and a warm feeling encompassed her. But then there was laughing, such mocking laughter as to suggest that she was doing wrong. "Kiss the hem of my robes, Miss Weasley." And there was a fresh wave of laughter at this command, and Ginny wondered why she should do such a thing, why should kissing Voldemort's robes benefit her? She could feel her legs moving to her own horror and she struggled to fight the urge to obey. The onlookers gasped as she halted, her body sinking to the ground as if something was forcing her down and she shouted forcefully, and her body fell completely to the floor as if nothing held her anymore.

There was silence and an obvious air of confusion. "You are stronger than you appear, Miss Weasley," Voldemort hissed her name out in anger. "The Imperius obviously will not work on you. However, I have decided a better fate for you..." Ginny stayed on the floor now, unable to move, but waited expectantly for the Killing Curse; she couldn't fight for her life now, fighting the Imperius had taken all her energy, she had no wand and she had no strength. "I have decided that I will deliver your sentence, tomorrow, I will allow you to fester in the knowledge of your fate for a whole day. Perhaps you will be fortunate enough to go insane." The crowd began whispering amongst themselves again at this verdict. "Lucius!" Voldemort called as if summoning a pet. "Take her to your dungeons at the Manor."

"Yes, my Lord," came the familiar voice of Lucius Malfoy, simpering and obedient.

"But, my Lord, our dungeons are vastly superior in filth than Lucius'," Bellatrix's voice came, even more simpering than her brother-in-law's. "Please, I beg you, allow myself and Rodolphus to take her."

"I have asked Lucius, Bella," Voldemort answered harshly, he was obviously still angered by Ginny's ability to throw off his Imperius. "And Lucius will be the one to take her. That is my final decision."

Ginny felt that there was at least some God, because going into the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange would have meant her death before Voldemort could even have a say in it. She would surely have sent her insane, and there would be nothing more degrading than to die in that manner, to die and not know yourself was truly pitiful. "Get up!" she heard Lucius Malfoy demand, but he didn't kick her as she would have thought, and he didn't even yank her up. To annoy him further, she got up slowly, as if she were disoriented, but as soon as she stood he grasped her shoulder and Apparated away from that ghastly hell hole.

* * *

Apparating had been a bad idea; being squashed into the air and shoved back out again was not a pleasant experience, and Ginny believed that it was just like how a baby would feel just after being born. That idea was also not wholly pleasant to Ginny. When they touched ground, she felt herself swoon and watched as bright white spots popped in front of her vision. She cringed as she felt Lucius steady her, but he didn't say anything, he just pushed her forward slightly as if to signify that she should walk forward. The thought was impossible since she could barely even see with all those annoying spots in her eyes.

"_Incarcerous!"_ Lucius hissed, and Ginny flinched as she felt tight, coarse ropes bind her wrists together behind her back. "We can't have you trying to escape," his cold voice explained as she eyed him angrily.

"As if I would bother," she returned obnoxiously, "where else do I have to go?" Ginny was in fact disappointed at this new development, her intent had been to try and run for it but she could hardly open a door with her hands tied in such a manner, let alone a window. But, where they were now didn't seem to contain any windows, no light came through except from the torches along the walls, and the walls themselves were damp and old.

"Am I expected to believe that?" Lucius said in the same cold and aloof voice. "Because, being a Gryffindor, and more importantly, a Weasley, I highly doubt that you were not planning to escape."

Ginny gaped at him, but didn't stop walking. It was at that moment that she noticed he was walking with a limp, his face was gaunt and tired-looking, and his hand that clasped his cane was shrivelled into grey wrinkles. She briefly wondered what was wrong with him, knowing that he couldn't be old enough to die from age but then she remembered that she had her own problems, like her impending death. Being curious about Lucius Malfoy's state of health was of no concern to her, considering that her state of health would not even exist within a few hours.

"Your cell, Miss Weasley," Lucius announced emotionlessly.

There was no light in the cell, except for a tiny sliver of moonlight from a crack in the wall; there was no bed or even a toilet. In place of those things were a bucket, which looked extremely disgusting, and a clump of straw, which seemed to have been there since the first prisoner lay upon it as it had matted almost to the floor. Lucius touched the bars with his wand and watched them melt away, he nudged her inside and before she could protest, the bars had reappeared. He did not leave immediately; however, he stood there for a few moments staring at her thoughtfully.

Ginny glared at him. "What do you think you are looking at?" she reproached, feeling uncomfortable under his stare. "If you think you are going to put your wrinkly old hands on me then think again!"

Lucius laughed a little, but began to cough almost uncontrollably. "Please, do not make me laugh," he said humorously, once he had gained control over his lungs. "How a disgusting idea such as that could enter your head shows how inferior you are. Though, I will admit, some of my fellows are not of the same mindset as myself."

"They can stick it, too!" she answered violently, but feeling genuinely scared. That was something that she could not cope with; torture by the Cruciatus was fine, burning her hair off was fine, cutting off her limbs... anything but that.

"I believe you look far too awful for any of them to belittle themselves anyway," he said just as emotionlessly as before. It was as if he couldn't even be bothered to insult her properly. What were words when you didn't have the appropriate tone to back them up? "What was your mother's name?" he questioned suddenly.

Ginny looked at him suspiciously, taken aback by such an odd question. "Why?" she said cautiously.

"It is of no important matter," he replied nonchalantly, "I was just curious."

"Her name was Prewett," she answered, turning away and sitting on the straw. What was the point in hiding it? It was only a name, and it wouldn't help them find her parents anyway if they were still alive.

Lucius' eyes seemed to brighten at this answer, and Ginny began to get even more apprehensive of him. "Prewett? A fine ancient Pureblood family, and distantly related to the Black family," he said quietly, as if to himself.

"I wouldn't know," Ginny answered with a sigh, wanting him to go away and leave her to think about her life on her own. Talking about blood purity was not high on her list for reminiscing.

"Well, of course, you wouldn't," he said in aggravation, waving a hand as if to silence her. "And the Weasley family, blood traitors, but Purebloods nonetheless. Your mother could have married better, but the fact remains that you are Pureblood through and through."

"What has that got to do with anything?" she said angrily. "I want to be left alone. Considering I am going to be dead tomorrow morning, I think it would be nice to let me have that at least."

"Very well, Miss Weasley," Lucius said, and he left in deep thought still.

Once alone, Ginny decided that he had gone mad and had become obsessed with blood purity beyond what was normal for the Death Eaters. In that moment, she let herself become absorbed in her nostalgic thoughts, any happy memory was welcomed into her conscious mind, even memories of Harry. It didn't matter if she thought about him now, it didn't hurt so much now she knew she was going to join him, but the prospect of meeting her brothers again overwhelmed her and she began to cry. The thought of her dead brothers made her remember the ones who were alive, if she died then she would never get to see them again, she would never see her parents again. Not that it would matter when she died, but it was the thought of dying without them near her that upset her most. In the end, she resolved to sleep and hoped that they could all meet together in a dream.

**A/N:** If anyone has any questions then feel free to ask. I am also waiting on to reply about some layout issues.

**Marinka:** They weren't specifically targeting Ginny, they would have taken them all if they could. It was just because Ginny was left behind that she was captured. Thanks for your review.


	3. The Proposition

**Disclaimer:** The following is a work of fan fiction using characters from the world of Harry Potter, which is owned by J.K. Rowling. The characters, creatures and other related descriptions are also owned by J.K. Rowling. I will not be receiving any monies in relation to this fan fiction. I have also used the HP Lexicon for some minor details.

**Summary:** After a night in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, Ginny finds herself being taken through the vast expanses of the Manor and learns that she has been given a House Elf. After all this, Ginny's sentence is finally delivered.

* * *

**THE WHOLE OF THE MOON  
**

**Chapter Three: The Proposition**

Ginny awoke to a loud clanging noise, as if something metallic was striking itself forcefully against something just as unyielding. Her body reacted with a sharp jolt, causing her to sit up stiffly, which proved difficult considering that her wrists were still restrained behind her back. Thinking about her back made her realise how uncomfortable that bed of straw had been; it had smelt too, potent and musky. She was sure that it clung to her now as if it were originally her own scent. She had also refused to use that bucket in the corner, thinking that wetting herself was a vastly superior scenario to catching some disease from that putrid bucket just by standing over it. Not that disease mattered now, now that she was being summoned to her death.

"Good, you are awake, Miss Weasley," came Lucius' weak voice. "Unfortunately, you have missed breakfast, but you should be in time for lunch." Ginny felt like telling him where to stick his lunch in no uncertain terms, but didn't have the energy to in the end, having not slept that well. "Well, get up," he ordered impatiently.

"My body is aching, thank you very much!" she said loudly. "I may be about to die, but I still have feelings!"

Lucius simply ushered her out of the cell, watching her stumble a little as she tried to wake herself up a little quicker. She was very tired, mostly because the sleep had been insufficient but also because she had been practically lying on a stone floor all night. The temperature had been relatively warm, considering that it was May and they were below ground, surrounded by soil and brick. That was at least some relief to Ginny. "Daisy!" she heard Lucius call, his voice not particularly as forceful as a shout should warrant, but she wondered why he was shouting out 'Daisy'. Suddenly a loud CRACK! resonated through the dungeons and a tiny house elf appeared before them.

"Master," the house elf bowed extremely low, her floppy ears almost touching the floor, and Ginny knew the house elf was female because her voice was very high, almost to the point of a squeak. "What do you require?" Ginny was quite taken aback; all the house elves she had ever come into contact with had always spoken in the third person, but this one sounded highly articulate.

"Take Miss Weasley to one of the guest bedrooms," he said in an authoritative tone, a tone that seemed well-used. "Clean her up, feed her, dress her... make her look presentable." He smirked at those last words, a smirk that didn't speak of any humour or relish in her situation, but a smirk that held a secret. Ginny was not stupid, the war had changed her in many ways and noticing things had been one of those changes.

"Why are you doing this?" she questioned mistrustfully, eyeing him and trying to work out his motives. But he was just as guarded as her, and his face didn't reveal anything, even his little smirk had disappeared. "If you think that I am going to let those filthy friends of yours touch me, then you can think again!" She looked at the door ahead of her, noticing no lock upon the handle, and she forced herself to run for it. Ginny knocked the house elf flying as she made her legs work as they should have worked in the tunnel, and the door wasn't that far off. She turned awkwardly so as to reach the handle in her bindings, and could see Lucius staring at her with an odd look on his face, and yet he wasn't even trying to stop her. Then she screamed.

"Silly girl," Lucius chuckled. "These are the dungeons, do you think we would have made it that easy for you to escape?"

Ginny looked down at her hand and felt an angry burn sear itself across her palm, imprinting the ornate pattern of the handle and it was almost unbearable. That had been one of the worse pains she had ever felt in her life, after the Cruciatus, but she had shouted at this one, the pain having taken her by a harsh surprise. "Of course, how stupid of me," she replied indifferently, trying to cleave back some dignity.

Lucius scoffed in response, but continued as before as if she hadn't tried to escape. Though she supposed the attempt was so feeble it wasn't even worth punishing; she would have to be cleverer and imaginative. Not that she had any time really to think of a plan; she had never set foot inside Malfoy Manor, she didn't know where the doors led to or even where the windows led. In such an old and ancient house as this, with magic part of its very being, any potential escape route could actually be a death trap. "I can see you are going to be uncooperative," he said calmly. "Daisy, you will have to restrain her."

The house elf had gotten back to her feet and approached Ginny with a sad expression upon her face as she lifted her hands. Ginny felt her body become warm and comfortable suddenly, and it felt like the Imperius, but cosier. That was the only way to describe it. She felt cosy and even a little... happy? Ginny hadn't felt happy for a long time, so she couldn't be so sure if that was what she was experiencing. Whatever it was, it made her want to follow Daisy out of the room with no concerns or worries. She didn't even really register what Lucius had just muttered to the house elf, something about taking her somewhere afterwards, but nothing mattered at the moment because she felt distinctly content.

Daisy walked up a flight of stairs, so steep that it was nearly a struggle not to fall backwards. But Ginny felt completely oblivious to all these feelings and carried on following the house elf into what looked like a kitchen and then up another flight of stairs. The room they entered now was tiny, but the door led out onto an expansive entrance hall dominated by two staircases curving up to the first floor; the staircases were white marble with iron wrought banisters, and in the middle of the staircases was a simple statue which Ginny could not really make sense of in her current state of obedience. Daisy walked up the easterly staircase, and led her prisoner into one of the many doors directly facing the landing.

"Miss Weasley, I have locked the door, so that I can release you from my spell," the house elf began, her voice expressing something like sympathy. "I don't want to keep you restrained, I know my master does not wish me to restrain you constantly." Daisy lifted her long-fingered hands again, and slowly brought them down. Ginny felt normal again, and quite disappointed, it had been a nice feeling, not worrying about anything. And it had been so very different from the Imperius. Yet, being forced was unnatural and sickening, anything could happen to her if she could be forced.

"Thank you, Daisy," Ginny said gratefully, and she took the chance to monitor her surroundings. The room was opulent, but not overly grand; it was light and airy with large French windows facing out onto what looked like the Manor's gardens and grounds. The walls of the room where finished in a panelled wood effect, a chandelier hung from the middle of the white painted ceiling, and the furnishings looked unbelievably comfortable, but nobody else seemed to be in the room apart from themselves. No one hiding behind the lavish white curtains, and no one hiding under the four-poster. Ginny was satisfied, to an extent. "Can you cut these ropes from me now, please?"

"Of course, Miss Weasley," the house elf replied obligingly, and she moved behind her prisoner and Ginny felt the ropes fall away with much relief. They had been chafing her wrists furiously during the night, and she knew that they were bleeding before she even looked. "First I will be giving you a bath and then you can have something to eat, anything you request will be given."

"A last meal?" Ginny said in acceptance, scoffing ironically. Lucius Malfoy giving her the dignity of a last meal was not something that she had ever expected to happen, she hadn't even thought about food until then.

"Not as such, Miss Weasley," Daisy answered to Ginny's surprise. "Lunch is optional in the Malfoy household, and whatever is wanted is what is served. That is the system."

Ginny was taken aback at this. So why was he giving her a share in lunch? Why was he allowing her to have a bath? She was quite sure that Lord Voldemort wouldn't give a damn about whether or not she was clean or if she had been properly fed prior to her death; it just wasn't logical and it wasn't how Voldemort operated. To Voldemort, the greatest torture would be death, not being given a bath and food in anticipation. Ginny speculated that this was Lucius Malfoy's doing, this was his own brand of torture; lulling her into a false sense of security, letting her simmer in anticipation about her fate.

"My master has picked out one of the late Mistress' dresses for you to wear, Miss Weasley," Daisy continued, trying to carry on being the perfect slave; efficient and hard-working. "I will make sure the dress fits you once you have put it on. I believe the Mistress was two inches taller than you, so I may have to shorten the bodice and the hem."

Ginny stared blankly at Daisy upon hearing these words. "That is sick!" she exclaimed, cringing against her own judgement. "He wants me to wear his dead wife's clothes? What for?!"

"There are no other ladies clothes here, Miss Weasley," the house elf explained soberly. "Master Lucius and Master Draco are the only residents here, and there has never been any other females living here in my lifetime."

"Draco? Draco Malfoy?" Ginny said dumbly.

"Of course, Miss Weasley," Daisy said, looking at Ginny incredulously as if there could be no other Draco anywhere else in the country. In Ginny's mind, there probably wasn't.

Ginny scanned the room then, the apprehension she had been feeling since she had been captured escalating into something far more advanced. "Where is he, then? I thought he would have revelled in this," she said shrewdly. "In fact, I know he would have revelled in this."

Daisy gave Ginny another look of incredulity. "Miss Weasley, Master Draco is in his quarters," she explained firmly. "He has expressed no wish to see you. Come and sit down, Miss, I need to heal your wounds before you bathe."

At these words, Ginny snapped out of her suspicions momentarily; the thought of getting her injuries healed was too hard a temptation to resist, so she obediently sat down for the house elf. "Why are you doing this?" she questioned uneasily. "I mean healing me, clothing me and everything else."

"My master requires it," Daisy answered simply, her tone giving nothing away.

"Yes," Ginny replied impatiently, "but, why?"

Daisy gave Ginny another sympathetic look. "My master has ordered me to take you to the parlour," she said finally, sighing in acquisition. "You are to meet someone... And I do not know who, Miss Weasley."

Ginny was beginning to grow curious now; surely Voldemort was not going to kill her in Malfoy's parlour? No, he wouldn't, he would kill her in full view of his followers. She had learnt that much the previous evening. He could not resist showing off his power and authority, so there was no way he was planning to kill her there. At this thought she decided she would do as she was bidden, the quicker this process was finished with, the quicker she could find out what all this was about. And Daisy had finished healing her; that dull ache in her head was gone, the burn on her hand, and the chafing on her wrists. "Thank you, Daisy," she said once again as she felt her head; the blood still remained matted to the tangled mess that was her hair, but the gash was gone. "Why do the Malfoy's allow you to use your magic? I thought wizards didn't approve of that."

"My master is ill at present, Miss Weasley," the house elf replied simply. "My mistress had excellent skills at Healing, but she passed four years ago. And Master Draco, although accomplished, does not have as wide a knowledge of Healing as his mother. The Mediwitches and wizards won't come out either, they won't come to the Manor, especially not to treat you, Miss Weasley."

"Thanks," Ginny said sarcastically.

"You are a blood traitor, Miss Weasley," Daisy said clearly. "That is how the world works now; only Purebloods and half-bloods get treatment, as long as they are not blood traitors. You would have to commit yourself to You-Know-Who to gain a pardon."

Ginny laughed at this. "I doubt he would give _me_ a pardon, Daisy," she said humorously. "I'm too far gone."

The house elf didn't reply, but stood in front of Ginny now, expectant. "I don't want to restrain you, Miss Weasley," Daisy said placatingly, but firmly. "Will you come to the bathroom without trying to run away?"

Ginny thought about her curiosity and how accommodating Daisy had been, if she was to run away, she was sure the house elf would be punished horribly for it. They would probably go so far as to kill her. Ginny wouldn't put that past the Malfoy's, a family so steeped in murders that one little house elf would be of no consequence whatsoever. "I won't try to run, Daisy," she said begrudgingly, "I promise." After all, there was still that mysterious meeting in the parlour. If it came to nothing, then she had plenty of time, at least two hours, to think of an escape plan. For now, she would wait.

* * *

Ginny gulped as she stood outside the parlour, awaiting Daisy's summons from within. The house elf had dressed her in the most old-fashioned looking gown; the hem almost touched the floor, it was held together by a corset and the print upon it left something to be desired and was barely noticeable. She supposed that to the traditionalist it would look beautiful, but to her it was just plain odd and far too effeminate. Her hair had been pulled up into a high bun, with curls framing her face. When she had perceived herself in the mirror, it had been like seeing someone else with her face. But Daisy had insisted that this was how her master wanted her to look, despite Ginny's protests. In the back of her mind, the person in the parlour was actually Lucius Malfoy, trying to play a sick game.

"You may go in, Miss Weasley," she heard Daisy's high-pitched voice having not realised that she had rejoined her in the hall. All Ginny did was stare dumbly down at her, prompting the house elf to usher her impatiently inside the room, much to her detriment. And the door was shut behind her.

After a short pause, she noticed a man standing by the empty fireplace; it was Draco Malfoy. "I wondered when you would decide to come and torture me," she said steadily. Of course it had to be him; he probably had something decidedly wicked in store for her before she was sent to her death.

"You needn't wonder," he responded in a level tone, giving nothing away, no malice or hatred, and yet his eyes conveyed something completely different. Ginny couldn't put her finger on it, but it almost looked like he was intrigued. "I am not going to torture you."

Ginny snorted derisively. "Yeah, because I am meant to believe that," she said sarcastically.

"Believe what you want," he replied quickly, waving his hand as if he didn't care about gaining her trust. "I am here to simply relay some information to you. My father asked me to do it." Ginny gave him a questioning look, not expecting this response at all. She was beginning to really wonder now about what games Voldemort was playing. When she didn't reply to his declaration, he continued. "The Dark Lord has decided to grant you clemency."

"What?!" Ginny shouted, interrupting him, her eyes wide in disbelief. "You are lying, Malfoy! There is no way in hell that Voldemort would spare me, and I am not pledging my allegiance to him, so he can forget about that right now!"

Malfoy looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Like I said, believe what you want," he shrugged his shoulders and sat down in one of the many armchairs placed about the room, quite relaxed about the whole situation. She noticed his wand inside a leather sheath that hung from his trousers and wondered whether she could somehow steal it from him undetected, but she decided to deal with the present and ludicrous lies before she thought about that.

"If it's true, then what does he want from me?" she said apprehensively. "There is no way he would spare my life unless I had something to give in return."

Malfoy aimed an insufferable smirk at her. "There, you aren't so stupid after all," he said humorously. "Of course the Dark Lord had to be coerced, even persuaded, to keep you alive. My father had quite a hard job of it, so he led me to believe."

Ginny blanched at this. "Y-your father?" she said in a small voice. "Why would he do that for me?" She thought about their conversation last night, about how she was too dirty to touch and she became incensed with anger. "If he thinks I will let him put his dirty old hands on me, then he has another thing coming. I - !"

"Stop your noise, will you?!" Malfoy said loudly, his voice surprisingly authoritative, a complete world away from the orders he gave his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, orders that didn't really seem to have any real sense of dominance. "If you didn't keep interrupting, then I could have told you why you are being spared by now." Ginny didn't respond, but instead contented herself with giving him a begrudging look. "In short, I am in need of a wife."

"So what?" Ginny said impolitely. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."

Malfoy gave her a look of incredulity. "The plan is for _you_ to become my wife," he explained pointedly.

At first, the words took a moment to sink in and then, as the realisation fought its way in, she could feel the heat from her body draining slowly away as if her blood had just run cold. "This is your torture?" she finally said, having to choke it out as her brain didn't seem to want her to make a sound. "You know what, Malfoy, this is pathetic; play your stupid mind games because they won't even register." Ginny finished triumphantly; she wasn't going to let Malfoy have one over her, if she had to die then she wasn't going to let him think he had won.

Malfoy simply stared at her, looking as if he was stunned by her little speech and it made Ginny feel even more triumphant. But then he smirked, that same infuriating smirk. "You think that I am toying with you?" he said, his voice laced with smug amusement. "Silly girl. If the Dark Lord wanted you tortured before your death then he would have had you raped over and over." His face was serious now as she cringed visibily from those last words. "So whatever you may believe, I am being quite honest with you."

Ginny baulked at this, remaining sceptical. Why would he possibly _want_ to marry her? Malfoy hated the Weasley's, the epitome of blood traitors, their home had been a refuge to Harry Potter and they had never cared about their Pureblood lineage. "Why?" she demanded. "Why on Earth would you lower yourself to marry a Weasley?"

Malfoy chuckled at her words and Ginny was immediately taken aback; she had never heard any kind of happy sound out of him at Hogwarts and hearing him laugh was strange. Even stranger still that it made her feel awkward. "Let's just say that marriage material is scarce," he said in an offhand manner. He went to stand up and noticed her jump back hastily. "You needn't be afraid, as I have said, I plan to marry you." He moved over to a cabinet and took out a bottle of wine and two glasses, and she remained on guard as she saw he pour out two drinks. If he thought she was going to drink that, then he was sorely mistaken. "Come and sit," he gestured, placing the drinks on the table.

Ginny waited until he took his seat again, watching as he sat back in it like it was a throne. "I think I like standing up, thanks," she said dismissively. "In any case, I don't believe you. Marriage material cannot be that scarce that you would degrade yourself to a Weasley," she said assuredly, remaining weary of every movement he made. "And what happened to your loyal dog, Parkinson?"

Malfoy took a sip of his wine shortly, as if wanting to make her wait for a response. "_She_ married Nott," he finally responded in a bitter tone, "and good riddance." Ginny was quite surprised at this revelation; Parkinson had nearly always been at Malfoy's heels when they were at school together, so what had changed? "And you would be amazed to know that all the eligible witches are rather afraid of me."

Ginny frowned at him, thinking about what an awfully strange thing to say that was, and yet his face still didn't give nothing way, but still his eyes held that odd look and she realised that it was not intrigue as she had thought before, but something else. And she didn't know what it was. Suddenly, she felt unsettled looking at them. The whole situation didn't make sense; Parkinson had left him, to his detriment, that was obvious, and other women didn't want to go near him. There was something not right. Ginny hated to admit to herself, but Malfoy had actually grown into his features with age; he wasn't scrawny or short, in fact, he was the opposite. So, what was the problem? Then she remembered that she had her own problems to deal with and she didn't want to be thinking about Malfoy's insignificant issues.

"Look," she said finally, "your problems have nothing to do with me, and I'd rather meet Voldmort without your little intrigues playing upon my mind."

His face darkened at her words, and his eyes... Ginny didn't even want to think about those eyes, what they held seemed to frighten that little part in the back of her mind that held some vestiges of a primal instinct. "You are not meeting with the Dark Lord!" he said angrily, his voice becoming loud. "This is real! My proposition is real! Now, sit."

Ginny blanched at his words: how dare he talk to her like that? But, that small instinct told her to sit, so she moved slowly, prolonging the process and hoping that it might annoy him just a little. She took the seat furthest from him, and she could see that he became exasperated by this. "Well..." she said thoughtfully, "what if I don't want to marry you?"

There was that chuckle again, and this time it made the heat return to her body and she was sure her cheeks must have went red. "To be honest, I don't think you have much of a choice, now, do you?" he said confidently. "And, be fair to me, you haven't let me persuade you."

"It seems to me that you don't have to persuade me, apparently I have no other options anyway," she said in a mock-casual manner.

"Well, no, you don't," he said smiling, and again Ginny couldn't stop her breath from hitching in her throat. "You see, my father took great pains to convince the Dark Lord to let me have you; if you refuse me, then my father will just send you back to him to die. You don't want that, do you?" Ginny didn't answer, refusing to admit that he was right, but he knew he was because he continued in confidence. "Either that, or you can be put back in your cell, and my father will allow every Death Eater that comes this way a little piece of you."

"You can't do that!" she exclaimed, jumping out of her chair, incensed at the arrogance of their plan.

"Believe me, I don't want to do that," he said calmly, as if her outburst had been a mere squeak. "But, if you refuse me, then I have no further use for you."

"How dare you talk about me as if I am some piece of meat?!" she shouted, her eyes burning up as the threat of tears hit her. But she forced them back down, refusing to show weakness in front of him. "I'd rather die, than marry_ you_!"

"That can be arranged," he said darkly, "as well as a few of my father's colleagues to see you off!" Ginny paled at this reassertion; truly, being raped was worse than dying in her book. The thought of it made her feel physically sick and faint, mostly because it could be done; she wouldn't put it past him to carry out those threats. She slowly sat back down, her head turned to the floor, unable to even look at him anymore. "I didn't want to have to do that," he said finally, calm once again, "it would have been better if you had let me continue without interruption."

Ginny snorted. "As if you care about my feelings," she said coldly.

"If you are to be my wife, then certainly," he replied.

Ginny looked up at this answer, genuinely shocked at such an admittance and she wondered what to say. It was perfectly ludicrous to suggest such a thing! "Well, it's not like I _do_ have a choice, is it, Malfoy?" she said, resigned. "I think you made that perfectly clear."

"Good," he smiled again, "I am glad we follow each other. But, you must realise that this is another chance at life; you should make the most of it, as we all have to."

Ginny glared at him. "I like the way you presume to give me advice, Malfoy," she said haughtily, "as if you have any idea about struggle."

"You know _nothing_ of my life," he said harshly, so harsh that it took her by surprise when he had been so calm not a second before. "Don't presume to know anything of my life, you think because you lost that you are the only ones to have suffered? Don't be naive... Once we marry, then you will realise."

"Why must you be married?" she said exasperatedly. "Why now?"

"My father is dying," he said bluntly as if he felt no emotion toward the event. "And, quite stupidly, I cannot inherit the estate without a wife."

"And when he dies, you will have no further use of me," she spat, despising this arrangement that they had made amongst themselves whilst she had sat in her prison, preparing for death.

"Quite the contrary, actually," he replied, ignoring her rudeness, but he sounded reluctant to convey that piece of information. "You see, I am... lonely," his voice faltering at this admission, but his eyes fixated on her as if daring her to laugh at him.

Ginny had no thoughts about laughing at him, she was simply in shock. "What?" she said as if bemused.

He looked at her in silence for a short while, as if he was trying to judge the situation, then he rubbed his jaw nervously as he looked down. "Four years ago," he began quietly, "a year after I had left Hogwarts, I was on patrol near Hogsmeade." Ginny struggled to hear him because he was so quiet, but she didn't say anything, her curiosity was getting the better of her again. "I was trying to work my way up into the ranks of the Death Eaters," he scoffed bitterly, "and then I was attacked by a wild beast, the largest I had ever seen before. My mind seemed to fail me and so did my wand as a result. My robes were torn from my chest in the struggle, and it wasn't until the savage tore into my flesh that I reacted." He paused for a moment as if he was wrestling with himself to carry on, but he noticed how intently she seemed to be listening and pressed forward. "I killed the creature, the light from my spell not revealing much. But, my side burned angrily, unbearably, and I realised that thing had bitten me before I struck it down. I... I lit my wand and cast the light over the dead beast... it was a werewolf."

Ginny gasped involuntarily, her hand covering her mouth. "Y-You're a w-werewolf?" she stuttered, almost scared out of her wits, her voice quiet and small. Yes, Professor Lupin had been a werewolf and he was fine, but this was Draco Malfoy, there was no telling how he might use his affliction.

He gave a curt nod. "My father only refrained from casting me out because I am the last Malfoy," his bitter tone returned as he spoke. "A werewolf, but still a Malfoy. He said I should be thankful that my mother wasn't alive to witness my degradation. As a result, I have also become an outcast. So, now you can understand that my need is a desperate one."

"But, you _can't_ be a... a werewolf!" she said disbelievingly. "Things like that don't happen to people like you."

For the first time that night, Malfoy threw his head back and laughed properly. "Yes, I thought so too," he replied humorously, much to Ginny's amazement, and he stood up and began unbuttoning his dark-coloured shirt. He revealed the most horrendous scar on his left ribcage, silvery in colour and an unmistakeable wound from a werewolf attack. And Ginny realised then what that look in his eyes was; it was the animal inside him, that base and primal beast.

"But, why me?" she questioned, imploring him. "There must be other prisoners to choose from."

"You would be surprised; it has been five years since the Dark Lord came to power, and the amount of captives has dwindled every year," he explained as he buttoned his shirt back up. "You are also a Pureblood. My father knew that his estate would pass over to Aunt Bellatrix, being his only next of kin, unless he could find me someone suitable. And father really does despise Aunt Bellatrix, at least enough to secure his shameful son the estates."

"But, why does any of this matter to you, anymore?" she said in a hard voice. "Why do you want to remain in a society that rejects you? In any case, Voldemort owns everything now, even your _estates._"

"It matters because I want to live," he replied simply. "It should matter to you, too. If we all stopped our lives because of one tyrant, do you think the world would ever have continued?"

"Considering this tyrant is Lord Voldemort, I believe the situation is a little different," she said exasperatedly.

"All tyrants are the same," he said clearly. "And all tyrants rise and fall."

* * *

**A/N:** I came across a story a couple of days ago called Prisoner 456, and it seems similar to my story. This is complete coincidence, as I had already had this story milling about in my head for about two years. I am also coming up to the end of my third year at university, so I have got a dissertation to write, which means I won't be updating as quickly as I would like. But, the rest of the story is written up roughly, it is just getting it onto the computer in a good state that is the problem. Thank you to marinka and SakinaWithLove for your reviews. They are much appreciated.

In response to a review; the reason it will pass to Bellatrix is because there is literally no one else, she is Lucius' sister-in-law and therefore the only relative that remains alive, not a blood relation, but still a relative. That is how I thought it out when I wrote it.

It would also be nice to receive some more reviews, just to give me an idea of what people think. Criticisms are welcome as these will only help me to improve. That is if I understand your criticism. But all will be gladly appreciated.


	4. The Rules of the Manor

**Disclaimer:** The following is a work of fan fiction using characters from the world of Harry Potter, which is owned by J.K. Rowling. The characters, creatures and other related descriptions are also owned by J.K. Rowling. I will not be receiving any monies in relation to this fan fiction. I have also used the HP Lexicon for some minor details.

**Summary:** Ginny is faced with some rules that are hard to swallow, and one more request that is even harder to bear. She faces the dilemma of obeying Malfoy or being sent back to her death.

* * *

**THE WHOLE OF THE MOON  
**

**Chapter Four: The Rules of the Manor**

Draco Malfoy walked with reluctance to the East Wing; if he was going to do this properly, then discussions with his father were a begrudging necessity. He would have to purchase a ring, persuade some foreign dressmaker to attend to the girl, as well as try to bribe a few witnesses and a Minister. All of that required money and, while his father was alive, he had to ask for it. He despised conversing with him now, all his father did was direct animosity toward him and insults. However, his father had acquired him a wife, he had to be grateful for that, and a pretty wife she would make too. Of course, Ginevra Weasley was rough around the edges, but that was to be expected growing up in a family that was little more than a family of rabbits. He would soon teach her to behave accordingly, and he had already found a stack of books for her to read, all of them enhancing her knowledge in a way that would benefit him. Draco was already in anticipation of the full moon for he had her to tend to him now, and she would, she would have to submit to him. He stopped outside his father's study, sighing before he knocked on the door.

"Enter, Draco," came his father's dull voice. "What do you want?"

Draco scowled behind his back, taking the opportunity to disrespect him whilst he wasn't looking. "I need the key to Gringott's, Father," he said in just as dull a tone as he had been spoken to. Neither of them took any pleasure in each other's company anymore.

"And why do you want that?" Lucius questioned, immediately infuriating his son.

"I intend to give Miss Weasley an engagement ring," he replied steadily, trying to keep his temper in check. His father wanted him to get angry, just so he could spout off about how much of an animal he had become. "I also need to pay a dressmaker."

Lucius finally turned to acknowledge Draco with a firm sneer set on his face. "There is no need to spoil such a blood traitor, Draco," he said arrogantly, "that was the point in enslaving her to you; she won't expect such luxuries, all things considered."

"You gave her to me on the basis that I marry her," Draco replied, his voice harsh. "If she is going to be a Malfoy, then she will have to dress appropriately."

"Well, that is fair enough," Lucius responded in a careless tone. "But why does she need a ring? I hardly see cause for that."

"I am going to do this properly," he replied firmly. "If I have to marry a Weasley, then I am going to make sure it is done damn well properly."

"I think a Weasley joining our house is the least of your worries, Draco," Lucius said calmly, but his son detected a hint of malice. "_Your_ condition is far more shameful than allowing a Weasley into the fold."

Draco screwed up his fists, feeling as though there would be nothing more satisfying than punching his father in the face, regardless of the fact that he was at death's door. But, he controlled himself, he didn't want to give his father any more excuses to insult him. And killing him would not solve any of his problems. "I asked for it, didn't I, Father?" he sneered. "I _wanted_ to be an animal."

"Had you been a bit more vigilant, Draco, then perhaps we wouldn't be in this situation," Lucius replied. "Perhaps you would have been in the Dark Lord's inner circle by now."

"I highly doubt that," Draco snorted. "Aunt Bellatrix holds that singular privilege. And I would like to have seen you try and stop an attack from such a beast."

"I would have," Lucius retorted confidently, turning back to his desk. Draco glared at his father's back, willing him to drop down dead, right in front of him. "And I suppose you shall have a half-breed for a child," he said cruelly, an undertone of amusement in his voice. "A lovely taint upon the Malfoy family tree."

"Disown me, then," Draco said furiously. "Then you won't have to worry about your precious family tree!"

"You know I can't do that, Draco," Lucius replied flippantly. "That is the whole point of this arrangement."

"Just be glad your family tree is going to continue," Draco said harshly, annoyed that his father hadn't replied in anger. "And no one need know about that _shameful taint_ you fear so much. Who will even remember in a hundred years?"

Lucius sighed now, resigned and obviously tired with his son's presence. "We have been having this argument for five years, now," he said wearily.

"Yes, because you carry on, Father," Draco retorted.

"Just take the key, Draco," his father waved a weak hand at the drawer in his desk. "And don't bring it back, I have no use for it."

Draco gladly did as he was bidden, happy to get away from his father's sour demeanour. He just didn't understand him anymore, he didn't want to and Draco had given up caring a long time ago. Becoming a werewolf had made him feel stronger; after recovering from the attack and all the depression he had endured, he had felt reinvigorated, more alive than he had ever felt before. His access to the Wolfsbane Potion helped, but his simple nature had changed. He could sense more, taste more, smell more, feel more; it had been like a revelation. And eating bloody steaks wasn't a problem, it just saved time. Now, he had Ginevra to look after him instead of a house elf; real, human hands to clean his wounds and massage his aching muscles. Forgetting about his father, he thought that things were certainly beginning to work in his favour.

Truly, he could get past the fact that she was a Weasley quite easily, especially when those lovely cheeks of hers flushed pink. It was ludicrous, he knew, to even think about her like that. Completely ridiculous. But, it had been so very long since he had even seen a woman. And what was the point in carrying on some old rivalry that had really only ever extended to Ron Weasley? It would have been immature to dredge that up, especially since she was going to make his life so much better. He sincerely hoped she could come to terms with her new life; for their relationship to work, it would require enthusiasm from the both of them. And he didn't mind admitting to himself that he couldn't wait for their union, since he would finally have someone to be with, to converse with, and perhaps she could be persuaded into bed.

With that last, improbable thought, he left for Diagon Alley.

* * *

Ginny awoke the next day in the softest bed she had ever been in, and she thought that it was probably the largest she had ever seen, with materials that were perfect for the cosiest nap. She surveyed the scene outside the large windows, noting that it was probably cold as she could see the treetops in the distance shivering in the wind. Then, suddenly, she remembered where she was and all that had happened the day before. She had agreed to marry Malfoy and the remembrance made her heart sink, but the thought that she was doing it to stay alive pushed to the forefront of her mind, reminding her that that was her primary concern. Marrying Malfoy was her duty now, and forming a credible escape plan would take some time; she would have to learn the layout of the manor, discover it's secrets and, most of all, figure out how she was going to get out. Whilst she had been with Malfoy in the parlour yesterday afternoon, she had not noticed any Floo powder by the fireplace, but she couldn't rule that out. And trying to get out of her bedroom door last night had resulted in another painful burn, so that was not a possible route just yet. If she could earn his trust, then perhaps he would give her more freedom.

However, the thought of having 'Malfoy' latching onto her given name was quite worrisome, even more worrisome was that he had very different ideas to her on blood status. In Ginny's view, their marriage was not going to be pleasant; truly, she hoped he would continue life as if she wasn't there once her use to him was expended. All he cared about was the inheritance, so once he got that, there was a chance that they could live without seeing each other.

Her bedroom door burst open without warning, making Ginny shriek in shock. Her nerves calmed a little as she realised that it was only Malfoy Jr. who obviously had no sense of other people's privacy and he barely even acknowledged her screaming.

"I believe it is time to get up, now, Ginevra," he said blithely, and Ginny blinked in response, shocked again at the use of her first name. It was quite unnerving to hear him say it. "Malfoy's, and those staying in our household, do not sleep beyone nine a.m. It is now eleven a.m."

Ginny glared at him in response, feeling that it was going to be a struggle to be nice to him, but she supposed one little bit of malice wouldn't hurt. "Forgive me," she said sarcastically. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep since her last night at Hogwarts, before the war.

"I forgive you," he answered as if her sarcasm had not registered at all. He stayed by the door, looking at her expectantly. "Well, get up," he ordered. "I am here to escort you to the bathroom. A house elf is waiting to assist you."

"I think that I am fully capable of readying myself," she said indignantly, throwing the covers from herself.

"I am sure you are," he said coolly. "But, you must understand, my willingness to trust you is not very high on my list at the moment, so a house elf will be assisting you. Do not take long, I have matters to attend to and you have a dress fitting at two."

Ginny blanched at this. "Already?" she questioned breathlessly. "Don't I get to choose my own wedding gown?"

"Of course," he replied impatiently. "This fitting is for your new wardrobe. As you are going to be living here, you must dress as though you belong."

She looked at him with a bemused expression. "But, no one is going to see me," she said, "from what you said, no one comes here willingly."

Draco gave her a hard look. "_I_ will see you," he responded sharply, "and I'll not have you looking like a commoner. Now, come."

Ginny felt quite stunned, realisation hitting her fully. From living on the streets, to becoming a prisoner and being tortured, and then to a life living in luxury and finery; it was quite difficult to process. She followed him out of the room and onto the vast landing, allowing herself to be pushed into the bathroom, which was only a few doors down from the bedroom, and immediately the spell had worn off. The sight of another hot bath was wonderful, and she felt more relaxed than yesterday, when she hadn't any idea of her fate. She felt that she could really enjoy it this time.

"Miss Weasley," a high-pitched voice startled her, and she noticed a house elf standing by the bath tub. It was Daisy, again. "Good morning; Master Draco has assigned me to be your personal elf." Ginny smiled at this, she liked Daisy, even if she did worship the Malfoy's, but she couldn't hold that against her; it was in her nature. "Your bath is ready, and I shall be assisting you in your toilette. Master Draco wants you to be as elegant as can be." That last remark made her feel a little bit resentful, 'as can be'; she could damn well look better than anyone he had ever been with.

Daisy dried her off once she had finished in the bath and asked her to brush her teeth. Afterward, she passed Ginny some plain underwear, that turned out to be a little too small up top, but the house elf fixed that accordingly. "I must help you put your dress on now, Miss Weasley," Daisy announced.

Ginny turned to her, an amused expression on her face. "I know how to dress myself, Daisy, I was fine with that dress yesterday..." but she trailed off upon noticing the dress the house elf had raised up. It looked very complicated and incomplete; there were ties all over the thing, including the corset. "Why does he insist on putting me in old-fashioned dresses?" she said in frustration; granted, it was better looking than the dress from yesterday, but that had been easier to put on, and nobody dressed like that anymore.

"This is the height of fashion amongst wealthier circles, Miss Weasley," the house elf replied, somewhat indignantly. "I must put this on you, Miss. Master Draco is waiting."

Ginny stared at the flouncy thing and sighed. "Fine, if you have to," she resigned. But she soon regretted it as it took a fair amount of twisting to finally get the thing on, having not been accustomed to dressing in such a way. To make matters worse, Daisy handed her a pair of white silk stockings, which she thought were a wholly unreasonable piece of clothing, considering her dress covered her legs anyway. She was then handed a pair of flat shoes, which seemed to slip on with ease and fit themselves to her feet. Admittedly, the dress did make her feel like royalty and it was vastly superior to that one she was made to wear the day before; the pale blue being more becoming than the awful dark yellow of the other dress, and the fact that the only type of detail on the dress was the lace around the neckline and sleeves was much better in contrast to the other's pattern.

"There, you are ready, Miss Weasley," Daisy said as Ginny felt her hair pull itself into a style. "Would you like to look in the mirror?"

"No, thank you," she replied quickly, "if I feel good, then that should be enough for Malfoy." She just wanted to get this meeting with him over and done with, wishing to get past all the boring necessities. Ginny left the bathroom with Daisy, who escorted her back to her bedroom, and found Malfoy sitting comfortable in one of the armchairs by the fireplace.

"Now, that is how a lady should look," he said as he turned to acknowledge her, shock evident upon his face. "You may go, Daisy," he said in an offhand manner. Once she had gone, he stood up and circled Ginny, making her feel very uncomfortable as she knew his eyes were looking over every part of her. "Lovely," she heard him say quietly, and she felt his cool breath on the back of her neck, and she had to stop herself from shivering at it. Before she could say anything, he took her arm and led her to the chairs. "Sit down," he ordered, that tone instantly shattering her daze and sending a spark of annoyance through her. "I have a few matters to discuss with you, mostly concerning this arrangement, as well as a few other things. First, there are some rules concerning the house; most important is to not enter the East Wing. My father resides there and he will not take kindly to being disturbed."

"I'll bear that in mind," she replied, glad of this warning if she was to ever be allowed to roam the manor. Meeting with Lucius Malfoy again was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Breakfast is at nine a.m., as you have been informed. But, you can order your lunch at anytime between twelve and three. If you want lunch, then have it soon as the dressmaker will be arriving. Dinner is at seven p.m., to be taken in the Dining Room; do not miss it, as you will not be receiving anything else. Is this all understood?" he questioned hurriedly, obviously wanting to continue to the next part.

"Breakfast at nine, lunch from twelve to three and dinner at seven," she listed off.

"To be taken in the Dining Room," he reiterated. "Good, it's rare to find a woman so attentive at listening. Now, I have my own set of rules, that I wish for you to adhere to," his voice suggesting that he was going to enjoy this part. "These pertain more to our relationship and your conduct. First, I wish for you to address me by my given name, do you think you could do that?"

"I suppose so," she replied, sighing. At least it wasn't something completely unacceptable. It was just a name, after all.

"Well," he urged, "say it."

Ginny stared at him as though hoping that he was joking, but Malfoy didn't seem to joke that much. And, despite her earlier thoughts, it was harder to think of it just as a name. It was _his_ name. Begrudgingly, she muttered the offending moniker, looking away from him to avoid seeing that insufferable smirk. She felt quite shocked at how much of a struggle that one request had been, she dreaded to think of what was to come now.

"Hopefully, you will learn to say it a bit more appreciatively," and Ginny could just hear the smirk in his voice. "Second," he continued, "you will endeavour to speak to me in a suitable manner. I will not tolerate your insults nor your rudeness. You are lucky that I have allowed it to pass this long. You will also obey me; disobedience in such a world can be suicide, particularly a world which you no longer understand."

"I believe I understand it perfectly," she replied haughtily. "It's full of insanity and hypocrites."

"And that is the attitude I have just warned you against," he said sharply. "Do not believe that you can carry on disrespecting me, because there will be punishment from now on." His tone was warning enough, but Ginny felt scandalised; how could she obey him? Ginny Weasley obey Draco Malfoy? It was unbearable.

"I'm not allowed an opinion, then?" she said affectedly, checking her tone.

"You are entitled to your opinion," he replied levelly. "How you express it is the problem, Ginevra." They stared at each other for a moment, as if waiting to see which one would give in, but he pressed on. "I'm glad we have cleared that up, do you think you can uphold that rule?"

"What if I don't?" she asked seriously.

"As I said before," he said calmly, his unnerving eyes continuing to bore into hers. "You will be punished. How I decide to punish you will be at my discretion; let me just say that it _may_ not be pleasant for you."

May not? She thought in confusion; any punishment would certainly not be pleasant, there was no may or may not about it, that was the whole point of a punishment. His vagueness was off-putting, but she supposed that was his design. "Fine," she answered carelessly, feeling nothing but. "I'm sure I can keep my tongue in check."

"To my detriment," he responded, and Ginny gawped at this response, willing herself to bite her tongue. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction, which he evidently wanted her to do. "May I continue?" Ginny's lack of response made him smirk again in that intolerable way. "Answering a question put to you is part of the respectful treatment I expect, Ginevra."

She sighed heavily, "you may continue."

"It is good to know that you can be civil," he replied, his sarcasm not lost on her. She was beginning to get very annoyed and could not wait for him to leave. "Next," he carried on seriously, "I also expect, as my wife, that you show me some affection; general companionship and care is what I mean," he explained carefully, probably because he knew that this was quite a difficult thing to ask from her. "However, and watch your tongue, Ginevra, I also expect to have an heir." He said this with some reluctance, but he was firm.

Ginny had half expected this request, how could she not have? But it didn't stop her heart from racing unpleasantly at such an inference, and she felt she could hardly breathe. "Couldn't you just bribe someone else to do it?" she said hopefully; it was worth trying, it was worth hoping.

Draco merely chuckled at her question. "I can bribe a dressmaker and a Minister, Ginevra, I highly doubt that I could bribe any half-decent Pureblood to sleep with a werewolf; they are far too afraid of me," he said this as though he relished their fear, as though he didn't care; a complete difference to the bitterness he displayed yesterday. "I suppose I am lucky you were brought here, being all for equal rights and all that; you won't mind having abnormal children, will you?"

Ginny gasped at the way he spoke. "Professor Lupin and Tonks' son was perfectly normal," she said defiantly, not understanding why he would say such a negative thing considering the state he was in.

"You are welcome to argue that with them, Ginevra," he laughed, obviously amused at her defensiveness. "But, I will take that as an agreement."

"I-I didn't say that!" she spluttered, her mind reeling from his constant attack.

"Ginevra," he said, and his voice was soft now, saying her name in that way that made her feel uncomfortable, "you needn't worry. I am a perfectly capable lover; the wolf may have changed me a little, but mostly for the better." Ginny paled at his words, feeling her heart jump into her throat at his implications. She felt as though she needed to say something, anything to get rid of the awkwardness she was feeling, perhaps something that might make him feel merciful.

"Listen, Mal- Draco," she caught herself hastily, "I have never _done_ anything like _that_ before."

Draco looked at her in obvious shock, evidently not expecting this development. "You mean to say that Potter never went there?"

"We didn't exactly get a chance to," she said self-conciously, and she felt her face heating up again, one of many in the course of a day. She really couldn't believe she was having this conversation with Malfoy. "And that is none of your business, anyway."

"You brought it up," he answered, an air of smugness about him. "And it is my business, as my wife, everything concerning you is my business, particularly that. But, you must understand my want of an heir, Ginevra. The whole purpose of this arrangement is so I can get the inheritance I am entitled to. Did you think I was going to let the line die with me? Of course not, I am not going to be the one to let the Malfoy estates pass to anyone less than a Malfoy."

"I did think about it," she admitted, "but I was hoping you would pass on it."

"You mustn't be afraid, Ginevra," he said placatingly, knowing the sensitivity of the matter. "I will take steps to accommodate you, I am not a monster, whatever you may think."

Ginny didn't feel afraid, she felt angry. She didn't want his child and she found it difficult to process his arrogance in the belief that she would accept her situation and his rules so readily. In her mind, she was meant to become a professional Chaser, preferably for the Holyhead Harpies, marry Harry and then have children with him. Not like this, not with Malfoy. "My life was planned out..." she said, her voice wavering as she tried to control her anger.

"So was mine," he said harshly, fed up with her inability to see his side of the situation. "Do you think I planned to be a werewolf? No, I didn't, but I have come to terms with it, and I think you should begin to be more grateful of this offer I am giving you."

"How can you expect me to accept this so easily? You and I are supposed to be enemies," she hissed.

"Necessity makes us change, we must adapt if we wish to survive," he replied steadily.

"That's easier said than done," she responded immediately. "I bet you didn't adapt so easily to your state. I bet you still hate yourself..."

"I'll let you in on a secret, Ginevra," he said quietly, his voice cold. "I'm glad I was bitten... it made me realise the futility of my previous life, trying to serve and please a man who doesn't give a damn about the future of the Wizarding World unless he's controlling it, and it made me realise the hypocrisy of my father. I relish becoming the wolf."

Ginny looked at him in pure amazement, not quite believing that all that had just come from the mouth of Draco Malfoy. "If you believe all that, then why are you still here?" she whispered.

"Don't think that I am some sort of hero, Ginevra," he replied firmly. "I can survive in this world. And so can you. We can still have the lives we were meant to have."

"How can you be so indifferent?" she said, almost mortified at his apathy.

"As I said last night, Ginevra; tyrants rise and fall, it is inevitable," he said confidently. "We shouldn't halt our lives because of that."

Ginny didn't have anything else to say on the matter, considering she had nothing left to argue against now. And the more she thought about her position, the more she realised that it was a blessing. She was a survivor, which was more than she had expected upon being shoved in front of Voldemort just two days ago, and if she had to rely on Malfoy to survive, then so be it, for now. She could play her position in her own favour if she waited and observed.

"Is there anything you wish to request of me?" he asked suddenly, dragging Ginny from her thoughts. Upon looking at him, trying to ascertain whether or not he was being serious, she realised that he meant it.

"I would like my wand back," she said hesitantly.

"I cannot give you that, Ginevra," he answered, "I have to know that I can trust you before I allow you that. At any rate, a new wand would have to be made as your old one was snapped upon your capture."

"What?!" she said in disbelief. "Why?"

"You were going to be put to death," he reminded her bluntly. "What use would your wand have been to you?"

His words were like ice on her heart; she had loved her wand, of course she had, it had chosen her from all those others who had tried it out. It had singled her out. It had been her first new thing, besides her clothing. And it had been a sign of her recognition as a witch. Truly, Ginny felt like crying, even mourning, for the loss of her wand; it had been alive, it had been an extension of her life as a witch. But she didn't want to cry in front of him, so she swallowed back her tears and decided to request something else. "I would like my own private space," she said evenly, "and I want to be able to go outside as well."

"Of course," he smiled that smile that made her feel strange, and it made her heart jump a little, almost breaking the ice the death of her wand had caused. "Once we are married, however, you will be sleeping in my room. But, you can have your own leisure space."

Ginny nodded in reply, not bothering to argue anymore. Frankly she was too hungry to allow more conversation than necessary, and she didn't want to witness him smile again, not when she reacted so out of character to it.

"Very good," he said with finality. "I will see you at dinner, then, Ginevra. Daisy will escort you to the Dining Room." Draco stood up now and stepped towards her, taking her hand and brushing his lips over her knuckles. With that, he left her alone to turn everything over in her mind.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you are all enjoying the story. Thank you to everyone who reviewed; I would be glad of some more!


	5. The Dinner Incident

**Disclaimer:** The following is a work of fan fiction using characters from the world of Harry Potter, which is owned by J.K. Rowling. The characters, creatures and other related descriptions are also owned by J.K. Rowling. I will not be receiving any monies in relation to this fan fiction. I have also used the HP Lexicon for some minor details.

**Summary:** Ginny begins to learn more about Draco and her duties as his wife, all the while trying to formulate a plan of escape as it seems Draco is set on a wedding date two weeks away...

**THE WHOLE OF THE MOON**

**Chapter Five: The Dinner Incident**

"What are these for?" Ginny questioned as Malfoy dumped a bunch of magazines on the table in her room.

"You wanted to plan the wedding," he said pointedly. "There's everything you will need. Just make a list of what you want and I will get it."

Ginny gawped at him. "What? Anything?" she looked at the magazines on the table, noting all the pretty brides plastered over the front covers, all smiling and showing off their engagement rings. Compared to the one Malfoy had given her, they were just ineffectual pieces of dust. But, she wished she could pretend to be as happy as they easily could.

"Of course, anything," he said exasperated, rolling his eyes at her. "Money is no object; my father has given me full access to the vault, so I can spend what I like." For the past week, Ginny hadn't seen Lucius Malfoy; he never came to dine with them and he was rarely ever mentioned by Draco. She thought it very strange, but she supposed that he was so ashamed of his son that he could barely even talk to him, let alone look at him.

"Who will be coming?" she asked seriously.

"I haven't managed to bribe anyone as of yet," he answered flippantly. "I might have to go and get some tramp off the street. However, I assume my father will be in attendance since it was his idea."

Ginny nodded in acknowledgement, feeling quite eager to look at the magazines. It would be some let up from that pile of books he had given her to read; he had given her books on a variety of subjects, such as etiquette, speech, domestic spells, werewolves and a book about the Malfoy family through the generations. To Ginny, it seemed like he was simply trying to prepare her for her role as his wife, and it seemed like he thought it would require a vast amount of knowledge on how to please him. She couldn't really blame him; obviously he was going to put what he wanted first; after all, he had saved her life, so he probably thought that that was enough. However, Ginny still felt that it was quite arrogant of him to completely cast her pleasures aside, considering he had said he wanted her to be just as enthusiastic as him. Perhaps that was why he was now letting her plan the wedding.

"I have some work to do, Ginevra," he stated, breaking her out of her thoughts. "Being an outcast still doesn't exempt you from trivial matters."

"I don't believe you are as much of an outcast as you make out," she said in a serious tone. "You still go to Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, and abroad; I'm an outcast, I don't go anywhere."

"I don't enjoy going to these places, Ginevra," he responded, sitting down now. "People I once knew stare at me and gossip, they cringe from me; I'd rather stay here, but sorting you out requires some face-to-face business and they won't come here to do it."

"I was thinking about something the other day," she said slowly. "Why don't you just live abroad? No one knows you there."

"Of course people know me, they know my family name," he said clearly, obviously exasperated by her lack of foresight. "And I cannot leave the estates whilst my father is alive; my inheritance is entrenched in English soil and if I claim home in another country then I will lose it. However, we could leave once he's dead..." He looked at her as if waiting for a response.

"You talk of him as though you want him to die," she said quietly, slightly shocked by his casual reference to his father's impending death. Ginny would give anything to be able to see her father again, and her mother, and he seemed like he couldn't wait to get rid of his.

"I don't want him to die," he replied, his face not giving any emotion away. "I love my father, no matter what has become of our relationship. But, my life would be so much easier if I didn't have him constantly insulting me." Ginny just stared at him, still dumbfounded at the way he spoke about Lucius Malfoy. She supposed that he had come to terms with his death long before she had arrived, and he obviously wasn't one to show that it affected him. "Anyway, what do you think about living abroad?"

"It doesn't really matter what I think, does it?" she said, an eyebrow raised.

"Of course it matters," he said, amusement in his voice now as she no longer pursued the previous topic. "You will be living with me; you'll be raising our child there."

Ginny almost cringed at the last remark; the subject of having a child with him still struck a nerve, and every time it was mentioned it made her even more determined to continue her plan of escaping. "I-I don't really mind..." she said, stammering a little to her detriment, hating when she showed that she had become affected by his words.

"I see that you are still having difficulty accepting this heir thing," he said, still laughing a little, and she could see the amusement in those cloudy eyes.

"Well, it's not just a 'thing' is it?" she said louder than she would have liked, but he ignored it.

"Ginevra," he said her name in that strange way he seemed to like doing, and she could never pin down exactly _how_ he was saying it, but it made her feel a little flustered and awkward. "Ginevra, you are thinking about this far too much; there isn't anything to be worried about."

"Well, that's easy for you to say," she frowned at him, her tone accusatory. "You aren't the one who has to carry it around for nine months and all that other stuff."

"So, you never wanted children?" he questioned, looking at her in disbelief. "You can't tell me you are afraid of being pregnant, Ginevra, it's what you are designed for."

Ginny stared at him with wide eyes, completely shocked at what he had just said. "If you hadn't noticed, this isn't the best environment to raise a child in," she finally said after a short pause, trying desperately to control her anger, and so she settled on that instead of insulting him profusely. "It won't have any friends or a normal life."

"At least you will be safe in the knowledge that the Dark Lord will never want it," he replied, his tone level. "It being tainted by the werewolf makes it useless to him, at least in the eyes of people like my Aunt Bellatrix."

"Well, it is of no consequence what I say," she responded calmly, "I must live by your will."

Malfoy didn't respond to her, and she knew that he was thinking in agreement with her statement; she did have to live by his will if she was to live alongside him. That idea hung over her constantly, the idea that he had that power over her, power over her life and how she lived it. If he wanted to leave England, then they would, and she couldn't blame him for wanting to either; having everyone treat you like dirt when they used to worship you must have been hard to swallow. "You have to live by my will, otherwise you run the risk of getting yourself killed," he finally said after some time, "or worse, you'll get me killed. And I have been quite safe so far in my exile, so I will not have you ruining that because of some rash decision that you Gryffindors are liable to make."

"I am not a child," she answered firmly.

"No one said you were," he replied with that annoying smirk; if she could, she would train that facial expression out of him. "However, you have much to learn about my world, Ginevra, if I am to find you useful. I don't expect you to just lie on your back for me."

Ginny felt the anger rise immediately at those words, but she suppressed it and fought against the temptation to say something particularly scathing, it would have been that or a punch in the groin region. "I suppose you want high entertainment, you know what I mean; piano playing, sewing and singing. All of that old-fashioned, feminine stuff," she answered, quite surprised at the fact that she had managed to hold her tongue, but she did allow some sarcasm to filter through. Truly, she couldn't let that comment pass without something.

"Maybe the piano, Ginevra," he answered humorously, "but we won't need to go as far as the singing or the sewing. Unless, of course, you can sing?"

"Thankfully, no," she replied drily. "And I cannot play the piano either. So no luck there; I believe you may just regret having me as your wife."

"On the contrary, I find it stimulating, Ginevra," he said with a smile that made her breath hitch in her throat. "I will take the utmost pleasure from making you submit to me, especially since you still seem not to care for your life by making yourself less appealing to me. I find that rather intriguing."

"I do care for my life, I just find it quite offensive to talk to me in that way, all things considered," she responded, perplexed at his little speech.

"I am doing you a favour, Ginevra," he said, still smiling and thinking nothing of her response. "I am merely preparing you for what I expect; I don't want you fighting me when the time comes."

"And what if I fight you?" she said seriously.

"Then you will be punished," he replied simply.

Ginny just glared at him, feeling more and more geared up to escape. To make that happen she was really going to have to reign in her feelings and face humiliation, because once she was free all of the humiliation could be forgotten and she would never have to see him again. She had made an effort to check herself, but she would have to try harder now, she would have to avoid being riled up by him; he was definitely doing that on purpose sometimes. But she would have to endure it, for now, and she would have to make him trust her somehow...

"At any rate, Ginevra, your reading should help you along with everything you need to know," he said after a long silence between them. "And I can teach you a little of the piano; my mother thought it to be an essential part of my pre-Hogwarts education. Perhaps you could learn to enjoy my company."

Ginny looked fully at him, noting the confidence in his voice and in his manner. "Perhaps I will," she replied, deciding not to become too submissive and simpering, otherwise he would suspect her. Malfoy may have been many things, but he had never been stupid. And he wasn't unappealing, so that would make it much easier to pretend. "So, when is the wedding?" she questioned in an attempt to be casual.

"I was hoping that you would be able to plan everything within two weeks, Ginevra," he replied. "I have the dressmaker waiting for my letter when you are ready."

Ginny was quite taken aback by this reply; didn't weddings usually need to be planned a little longer than two weeks, what with all the flowers, the dinner, the themes... but then she supposed it didn't really matter since there was only going to be three other people present. It was quite saddening to think of it, she had always wanted a big family wedding, with lots of drinking and stupidity involved. Then she supposed that worrying about what her wedding was going to be like paled in comparison to trying to figure out an escape within two weeks. It was going to be almost impossible. "That's fine," she answered, just as casually as she had made the question.

"I have work to do, now, Ginevra," he announced, standing up and bending to retrieve her hand as he seemed to have made a habit of it, and kissed it. "I will see you at dinner. Don't be late."

"Goodbye," she replied, watching him leave with relief. She felt anything but relief, she felt completely at a loss now about what to do. Her room had been scanned numerous times and there was definitely no way out unless she chucked herself out of the window, but it was two storeys up and there was no way she would be able to survive the fall. The only thing she could do was to make him think she was putting her heart and soul into planning this blasted wedding and striving to learn from all the books he had given her. At one point she had thought that he would show her some compassion, if she cried then maybe he would soften to her plight; then she had realised that this arrangement his father had made was his idea of compassion, anything given further was an overindulgence.

* * *

The following week came far too quickly for Ginny, and she found herself staring at her wedding dress in trepidation, hanging on the inside of the wardrobe door taunting her and laughing at her. Looking at it, pretty though it was, made her feel sick. She was beginning to believe that she would have to go through with the wedding, maybe even going so far as to... to... _sleep_ with him, all in the name of gaining his trust. Scouring the sections of the manor that she was allowed had been fruitless, and he wouldn't allow her anywhere else until they were married; going over the same areas of the house had become tiresome and Ginny finally realised that there was not going to be any let up there whatsoever. But, every time he came to visit her with that arrogant air and that superior smirk, she felt motivated again to search.

When the dress arrived that morning, she felt absolutely powerless to the inevitable outcome of her situation. Being Draco Malfoy's wife was simply going to have to happen; she could live with that as long as she didn't have to live with him. Once she escaped, none of it would even matter. It was these kinds of ups and downs that Ginny had been experiencing the whole week, and she supposed she had to keep balancing out the negative with the positives to remain sane; otherwise she would never be reunited with her brother and Hermione.

Her attentions were drawn to planning the wedding again, as they always were after such a bout of contradictory thinking, but this time she was focusing more on the details than the important things, such as her flowers and her hair and makeup. There wasn't much else to do considering the lack of guests to attend a reception. The most she had done was design her dress, chosen the rings, overlooked Malfoy's suit design and focused on spending as much of his money as was possible. He seemed unphased by any of the prices, however, even when she told him how much the diamonds on her dress would cost along with the diamonds she decided she was going to wear in her ears and around her neck for the pure sake of it. Despite her wedding planning, he constantly encouraged her to read the books he had given her, she supposed he knew she was neglecting them in favour of more exciting activities. The tedium of reading his family history was such that she had to restrain herself from fear of scratching her eyes out; the illustrious career of some great-great- grandparent hunting down muggles and torturing them in the name of magical advancement was too much to handle, as well as the strange inclusion of a Veela in the form of a great-great-great- Grandmother. She thought it rather hypocritical of the family to accept and even praise the inclusion of a Veela, effectively another humanoid beast, but completely condemn Malfoy to the depths of obscurity because of pure accident.

His affliction was also causing her some concern; reading those books on werewolves had not been exactly encouraging. Having studied werewolves whilst at Hogwarts, she thought she knew all she needed to know about them, but since reading his gruesome books about them, it was becoming obvious that he wanted her to take an active part in looking after his affliction. The thought of it actually made her feel a bit sick, apprehensive and again powerless to her situation. Selfishly, she had thought about her place being taken by Hermione, who she thought would have been able to handle the situation much better; she would have already formulated some kind of plan and would already know how to escape. Then she realised that Hermione would have been dead by now, considering her blood status; it was quite lucky that she was still alive. Ginny just wished that there was some way that they could know of her whereabouts; she had thought about asking Malfoy to put an announcement of their wedding in the _Daily Prophet_, but decided against it. All that would generate was tons of hate mail, espousing bigoted views on werewolves and intermarriage.

It didn't help that life at the manor was boring. There was nothing to do, at least where she was allowed to go at present. She had seen some stables when Malfoy had walked her around the grounds, so she knew that they kept horses, and he had also spoken of a swimming pool in the lower part of the manor, but other than that she knew of nothing else to do. It seemed that being poor was much more fun; she remembered making up games with her brothers, making up her own games when they would exclude her from theirs, but also the things her parents did with her, like reading her stories and playing tea parties with her. She had briefly wondered what Malfoy's parents had ever done with him, but became stuck at a dead end when all she could think about was them taking him to some weird Death Eater parties.

"Miss Weasley," Daisy, the house elf, spoke suddenly to Ginny. She hadn't even heard her enter the room. "It is almost time for dinner. Master Malfoy has sent me a message to let you know that his business has held him back, so he won't be taking dinner with you."

Ginny was a bit taken aback by this, having become accustomed to his presence at dinner. "So, where will he have dinner, then?" she questioned curiously.

"I expect that Master Malfoy will have dinner out," Daisy answered readily.

"Well, it is alright for some," Ginny replied resentfully. "I suppose that I can't just have it up here, can I?"

"Certainly not, Miss Weasley," the house elf replied, almost offended by such a presumption. "That would be against the policy of the manor."

"I thought it might be," she sighed, allowing Daisy to escort her out of her bedroom and into the large corridor. Her bedroom door looked out onto the expansive staircase which led down to the entrance hall, sweeping along the sides of the walls and dominating the area. "What is for dinner, then?" she asked, passing time until they reached the dining room.

"I believe the kitchen elves have prepared a smoked salmon terrine with French bread to start, and braised duck with root vegetables for main, and a selection of desserts to choose from, as well as a cheese board and sorbets," Daisy answered with ease, having obviously memorised all this just in case such a question was put to her. Ginny supposed that Daisy had to know a great many things about the ins and outs of the daily inner workings of the manor just in case. She also pondered on the extravagance of the family meal; doubtless the elves cooked enough for the people living in the house and nothing more, but the idea of having a starter and even a dessert was absurd. Granted, they had such privileges at Hogwarts, but it would have been harder to judge how much would be eaten by at least two hundred students. It was all part of that luxurious lifestyle that Malfoy kept banging on about, of which he was immensely proud to have been born into and doubtless felt she should be grateful for a ticket into it as well.

"Ah, Miss Weasley," she looked about her for the voice, "so glad you could join me."

It was Lucius Malfoy, and Ginny stood aghast staring at him, leaning on a walking stick by the double doors that led into the dining room. "What are you doing here?" she blurted out suddenly.

"Well, this is my house, Miss Weasley," he replied smugly, "therefore you would presume that I should have free reign of it." Ginny just continued to stare at him, annoyed by his arrogant presence. She had been rather looking forward to a peaceful dinner. "Well, shall we have dinner then, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny ignored him and simply followed him into the dining room, catching a glimpse of the shocked look on Daisy's face; not even she had known that the elder Malfoy would be taking his dinner down here. Taking a seat further away from him, Ginny felt safe in the knowledge that she wouldn't have to sit with him for long and listen to him belittle her. But, even before the starter had appeared, Lucius Malfoy decided that it would be of some interest to talk to his future daughter-in-law.

"I see that Draco has had you dressed in some more appropriate clothing," he commented, if not a little rudely. "Of course, he couldn't possibly bear to look at you in those ghastly clothes you came here in."

Ginny glared at him, wondering whether or not she could be just as rude back to him; Malfoy had never extended his rules beyond himself, so she guessed that being rude to his father was a matter of her own choosing. "Considering that I had been holed up underground for almost five years, hiding from your scumbag friends, it isn't any wonder that I looked the way I did."

Lucius Malfoy gave a coarse laugh in response, obviously a laugh that was affected by his illness. "My son will have such fun trying to tame you," his humour evident in his voice. "Though, he wouldn't have been in this situation if he hadn't gotten himself infected."

"You speak as if he asked to be attacked by a werewolf," Ginny responded, almost defensively.

"And I say that he doesn't seem to be much put off by having been bitten, Miss Weasley," he answered gravely now, "he doesn't show much resentment toward it."

"Why show resentment? It's not like he can do anything about it, now," she shot back harshly. Just then, the starters appeared and nothing more was said. They both ate their food steadily, not rushing, Ginny not wanting to talk and Lucius Malfoy not wishing to go upstairs so soon.

"You know, Miss Weasley," Lucius said thoughtfully after he had finished his salmon, "I would pity your situation if I cared anything for blood traitors. To be made to carry some half-breed would make me feel quite devastated." The acknowledgement of what Malfoy expected from her coming out in words from another's mouth made her feel even worse than she had before about the whole thing, somehow it cemented it and made it very real and very close. "The look on your face confirms my thoughts," he said in slight humour again. "Even a tolerant witch like you has reservations; the hypocrisy just makes me want to laugh."

"A half-breed child has nothing to do with my reservations," she hissed. "It's more the fact that I hate Draco Malfoy and, more to the point, his whole family!"

Lucius Malfoy laughed again. "I find that amusing as well. Even though we saved you from death, you hate us still," he gave her a distasteful look. "You don't even have to do much in return. You don't mind werewolves, so marrying Draco will be of no consequence to you, even now that you have no living love interests, all things considered."

"I like how everyone assumes that I should be happy with this situation," she replied, her voice cold and uneven in her anger. "I liked my life before your stupid master came and mucked things up, for me and everyone that I cared about."

"Just be glad you are still alive, Miss Weasley," Lucius replied, just as coldly. "Think about those people who are no longer with you and be glad you continue to live, be glad that you are not a prisoner because that would be a worse fate than death. I could arrange for you to stay in the prison, with the dementors, they would be glad to feed off of your happy memories."

"Draco wouldn't allow it," she answered confidently. "He has become used to the idea of having a wife, and I doubt he would let you get in the way." Truly, she could hear herself speaking, and the words coming out of her mouth shocked her, but she had to defend herself.

Lucius simply smirked at her, an echo of the annoying smirk that Malfoy loved to put on display. "That is true, my son despises his lonely state," he admitted. "But I fail to see how he could stop me, considering that it was I who persuaded the Dark Lord to set you free. Draco would be powerless."

"Considering that you are half-dead, I am sure there would be no problems," she replied carelessly, deciding to pay attention now to the dinner that had just appeared before them, and it was not a hard pursuit since Lucius seemed no longer in the mood to converse. However, there seemed also to be no respite, because by dessert, he was ready again to irk Ginny's already frayed nerves.

"I am quite at peace with my imminent death," he said calmly, giving her a pointed look. "All my affairs are in order, and Draco shall continue on, even though he is an animal. Nevertheless, future Malfoy's need never be aware of the stain on the family tree."

Ginny just gave him a bland look, thinking to herself about how one person could be so bitter about something that was impossible to control. Voldemort winning the war was something to be bitter about, because it could have been prevented and his reign could also be put to an end now, but being bitter over something such as being bitten by a werewolf was pure madness, considering the event happened years ago. She almost felt sorry for Malfoy, having to put up with him as a father, and she supposed that she could see now why Lucius' death would be a great relief to him. "Do you not have any other forms of conversation? Can you only dwell on that?" she asked, a little sarcasm in her voice. "It is quite boring to hear you moan about how dreadful it is to have a werewolf for a son, considering that I am now a prisoner and being forced to marry said son."

"A Malfoy is a worthy husband," he said, as if reciting it from a book. "You should take note of that, even in consequence of his disease, because what kind of impoverished life would you have led if none of this happened?"

"At least I would have been free," she shot back.

"Once you are married, I don't doubt that Draco will give you freedom, within reason obviously," he replied, still quite calm. "I find it very hard to understand how your life on the run was any better than the life you will be enjoying in a week's time. You can pretend to your heart's content that you are really living with your beloved Potter, I don't suppose Draco would care much either way, as long as he gets what he wants."

Ginny was taken aback by this, hearing Harry's name said in such terms and in such a manner felt shocking. But she didn't feel angry, she felt upset, she felt as though that that is what it might take to get her through this dreadful situation. Yet, pretending that Malfoy was Harry would be impossible, the thought of it made her feel sick. How could anyone replace Harry? No one could, he had been selfless and kind-hearted, and Malfoy was none of those things. He had had only saved her for his own ends, and there was no way that she could ever forget that.

"I see that I have struck a nerve," Lucius said with a little laugh. "Talking about Potter obviously has a subduing effect upon you; I may have to let my son know."

"Shut up! Shut up!" Ginny screamed, standing so sharply that her chair hit the floor with a harsh bang. "You have no right to even talk about Harry! No right to even mention him in the same breath as your precious son!"

"And yet my son remains alive," Lucius answered loudly, but infuriatingly still calm.

Ginny felt like screaming some more, screaming in his rotten face, but she thought the better of it and instead stormed out the room without a backward glance. Running up those imposing stairs felt like an eternity when all she wanted was to get back to her bedroom and go to bed. Being around that old man was draining, as if he was a dementor himself, sucking away all the hope she had let herself have before dinner. Bursting back into her bedroom and throwing herself on her bed, she felt that at least Draco Malfoy was nowhere near as bad as his father.

* * *

**A/N:** I know this has taken a while, but I was bogged down with my dissertation and another essay. I have got two exams soon, but the next chapter should be coming sooner than this one. Also, this is more of a filler chapter than anything else. Next chapter will be more plot-oriented. Also, I would like to thank everyone for their reviews. **Furface**: The other Order members and other Weasley's could possibly come into play in the future.


	6. The Traditions of a Malfoy

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fan fiction using characters from the world of Harry Potter, which is owned by J.K. Rowling. The characters, creatures and other related descriptions are also owned by J.K. Rowling. I will not be receiving any monies in relation to this fan fiction. I have also used the HP Lexicon for some minor details.

**Short Note:** The village of Fugglestone is a real place in Wiltshire, formerly a village up until 1894. In this story, I am using it as a trendy and wealthy wizarding shopping destination, mostly because I didn't want to use the same old Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade.

**Summary:** The impending wedding has Ginny feeling like a bundle of nerves as she has resigned herself to her fate, having found no means of an escape. The most immediate problem now is Draco Malfoy's assertion that he expects a willing wife.

**THE WHOLE OF THE MOON**

**Chapter Six: The Traditions of a Malfoy**

Draco Malfoy had recently become accustomed to wearing his hood up, and wrapping a swathe of material around the lower part of his face. His reasoning was that he should not be recognised whenever he decided he needed to leave the safety of the manor; the only problem was that now it was June, he looked rather absurd dressing in such a manner and it had become nearly unbearable in the heat, forcing him to place a cooling charm upon himself in consequence. That it was June and he was covering up like it was winter did actually attract more stares than if he had simply wandered along with his face in full view, but he could tolerate it, he could tolerate people looking at him out of curiosity rather than out of disgust or fear. He had thought about putting a glamour charm upon himself, but he felt that he could not really be too bothered to do one and had never been great at doing those kinds of charms anyway. This particular day was the day before the wedding, and he had a few last minute errands to run.

He had begun to take his business to the nearby wizarding village called Fugglestone, a relatively new shopping district compared to the ancient Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, but one that invited only the wealthiest of witches and wizards, and therefore had the best shops and the best service. The streets were clean, and the shops were designed in such a way as to draw you in without having any prior inclination to buy. Draco had already stopped at the apothecary, having ordered some potions a couple of days ago, as well as having to top up his supply of ingredients to make the Wolfsbane. Now he had to collect the rings that Ginevra had chosen, a task that he was not really that willing to do since the ring maker knew who his customer was, but the goldsmith would not serve a house elf and he would not deliver to the manor, by owl or other means.

As Draco walked along the winding, cobbled street he glanced invariably at the other shops along the way, trying to avoid looking at the other witches and wizards who kept glancing his way as if expecting him to commit some horrific crime. He stopped suddenly when he noticed the display in one of the shop's windows; the centrepiece was a grand, wooden cot with a carved headboard and plush cushioning. When he thought about having a child, it actually made him feel quite excited, and seeing all the fixings and furnishings added to the anticipation. Furthermore, he would be nothing like his own father; belittling, hypocritical and bitter. What Draco most hoped for was Ginevra being a willing participant of his goal towards becoming a father, truly he did not want to have to force her into it, and he did not want to have to punish her for disobeying him in that respect. Disobedience in the form of backchat and violence was something he was willing to punish, but punishment for unwillingness would not be pleasant.

With that thought, Draco stepped inside the shop, which was light and airy, but filled to the brim with stuffed toys, soft bedding, tiny cotton clothes and various other baby paraphernalia. It was quite strange to think that such a shop still existed under the Dark Lord's reign, but, in some respects, life carried on as normal after a transition period, at least if you were a half-blood or a Pureblood. Apart from the various laws in place, you would never know that there was a raving lunatic in charge of the wizarding world. The shop was only occupied by a few others, and it was deathly quiet as if a baby was actually sleeping in one of the cots on display, so it was with a whisper that Draco was approached by the pompous owner of the shop.

"Good afternoon, sir," the man managed to drawl, even in a whisper. "Are you looking for anything specific today?"

Draco could feel the man eyeing him up and down before he could even look down at him, and he had to look down at him because he was so short, and he was obviously adverse to his decision to dress in such a way, and also dare to enter his shop dressed in such a way. "Not today," he responded confidently, in one of his most condescending voices. He was not going to have some jumped up little, pointy-bearded, piggy-eyed egomaniac think he was better than him. "I want a catalogue for my fiancée, that is if you actually do bespoke." Under his mask he smirked; no one could outdo him in arrogance.

The man blinked in response, as if not expecting this kind of treatment from a man who was dressed like a bandit. But he reacted quickly thereafter, dropping the arrogance in favour of a more friendly and subservient approach, something that Draco was more accustomed to. "Of course, sir," the man now simpered. "We are world leaders in bespoke design, having various awards -."

"I just want the catalogue," Draco demanded now.

"Yes, sir, right away," he agreed, and he scurried off, allowing Draco to glance around again. Along with that catalogue, he decided that he would subscribe to a couple of baby magazines, from which he hoped Ginevra would at least develop some kind of acceptance or, at most, actually begin to feel as though she wanted a child. Allowing her to plan the wedding had paid off; she had been occupied and less hostile toward him. Outwardly, she wasn't hostile, but behind those eyes was such a fierce and passionate anger that he had to subdue it somehow, so perhaps allowing her to plan the nursery would also be a step forward. Either way, she was going to bear him a child, because it was her duty to him, and once she was his wife she would be completely his. And, quite bizarrely, he liked the thought of that.

As he left the shop, he immediately felt a little sense of dread, knowing that he now had to go to the goldsmith. It wasn't that he feared anyone, on the contrary, since he had gotten over the fact that he had been made into a werewolf he had found that he no longer seemed to care that much anymore; people's opinions were nothing to him anymore and the thought of a duel, magically or physically, filled him with excitement more than anything. His feeling of dread was more to do with the way in which he was now treated, as though he were no longer worth something. Growing up, he had been used to being the centre of his parents' attention, as well as being looked up to by the other Slytherins whilst at Hogwarts, and being treated so flippantly was quite hard to swallow.

The shop front came into view, with its single-panelled windows shining against the sunlight and the jewels enticing everyone to glance at the shop as they walked past. As he pushed the door open, the bell tinkled to signal his arrival. Begrudgingly, he removed his hood and mask, the goldsmith immediately being made aware of his presence, as well as the other customers who began to whisper amongst themselves and looked about ready to leave.

"Mr. Malfoy," the goldsmith rushed toward him, an annoyed look upon his face. "Surely I suggested that you come round the back next time you were here." His voice was hushed, trying to avoid the horrified looks of his customers as he took Draco around the back of the desk and into an adjacent room. "Wait here."

Draco felt like smashing his head into the brick wall, but thought that maybe it would have been seen as overly dramatic. The feeling, however, was renewed when he heard the man trying to calm down the customers browsing at the front, reassuring them that Mr. Malfoy would not be there for much longer and would not be bothering them further. They seemed happy with this assurance as he returned, looking quite flustered and slightly angered at being taken by surprise. "You know, I could take my custom elsewhere," Draco said in a hard voice.

"Then why didn't you?" the goldsmith replied, in just as hard a tone as Draco's.

Draco sneered at this admission, allowing it to pass only because he didn't want to give into their idiotic stereotypes. "My fiancée thought that your workmanship was something to admire," he replied. "Perhaps I should have checked her, her tastes not being as superior as my own."

The goldsmith seemed not to hear, as he was more preoccupied with the cabinet he was trying to unlock, having placed various curses and charms on it. Draco scowled at this, his dread being reaffirmed in being treated as if he was not there or as if he wasn't wanted there, despite paying a handsome sum just for a pair of rings. It made his blood boil knowing that he was far superior in breeding and in station to this lowly goldsmith, and yet he still felt like he could espouse his prejudice upon him. "Here are your rings, Mr. Malfoy; all has been done as requested." Draco found a dark blue velvet box being forced upon him, and he snatched it from the hands of the goldsmith in annoyance. "If you would be so kind to leave through the back -."

"I am going to check them first, you imbecile!" he snapped. "Do you think that I will take these home to discover some shoddy workmanship? If you do, then you are more of an inbred fool than I thought." He revelled in the insults he was throwing at the man, taking advantage of his desperate want for Draco to leave and thus not saying anything back. The clasp on the box was easy enough to open, and inside, on the velvet pillow, were two white gold rings, plain and simple, but effective to their purpose. They really had no fault that he could pick out, but the insults he had just made would be sufficient to satisfy his ego. "Good," he simply said, taking out the money bag he had in his robe pocket and dropping it onto the workbench he stood beside. "There is your payment; I think you'll find it sufficient."

The goldsmith sighed in relief, not deigning to thank Draco for his custom or his money, and went back to the front of the shop, reassuring the remaining customers that Mr. Malfoy had now left the premises. When Draco left the shop, he Apparated immediately, returning to the safety of his home, his mind burning with the thought that soon everything would change in his favour, then they would all be worshipping him.

* * *

The next morning, Draco was making sure that his appearance was as immaculate as he could possibly make it without using magic, staring in the mirror and trying to discover any unwanted imperfections. His house elf, Ix, was flitting about getting Draco's morning suit ready for wear. He briefly wondered what Ginevra was doing down the hall, and he presumed she was feeling very apprehensive if her previous reactions to the word 'marriage' were anything to go by. He was very calm, almost to the point of contentment, because it seemed that once she was bound to him then his life could begin again and all his previous worries would be over; his father would be almost non-existent to him and his family line would carry on. It was that which bothered him the most about becoming a werewolf, the uncertainty of finding anyone worthy willing to marry him. Now he knew that willingness hadn't really been a problem at all.

"Master Draco, are you ready to dress?" his house elf questioned him. Draco turned to see Ix holding his shirt in his outstretched arms.

"Yes," he replied shortly, taking the shirt from the house elf and allowing him to prepare the trousers. Ginevra had chosen a light grey morning suit for him; not something that he would have particularly chosen, he would have decided on something more traditional in the way of dress robes, but it seemed to suit him fine and she hadn't stepped over any kind of bizarre, modern boundary. In any case, he had insisted that she wear a dress in a similar silhouette to the dresses he had chosen for her daily wear; they were proper and fitting for a traditional witch. The double-breasted waistcoat was the lightest blue with some pattern on it that was barely discernible and she had chosen to make him wear a matching cravat. He had to commend her; she had some idea of fashion and taste, never seeming to go over the top unlike most people with newly-discovered wealth.

He hadn't dined with her the previous night, deciding to break the rules and allow dinner to be taken in their separate bedrooms, mostly because he thought it would be appropriate to allow her time to adjust, as well as giving her some time to be alone. From tonight she would be sharing his bedroom and sleeping in his bed, so he thought it was quite reasonable to break the dinner rule, considering that she may cause some trouble this evening. Draco's eyes flitted to the neatly-wrapped boxes on his bed, silk bow and all, with a little smirk on his face and he wondered whether it would be appropriate to send her both gifts now, or just one, traditionally it was, but considering their wedding wasn't exactly ideal, he mulled over the decision for some time until settling upon the idea that she should accept the gift gratefully, regardless of the content.

"Ix, the gifts on the bed," he pointed out, "take them to Miss Weasley, I shall manage on my own."

"Of course, Master Draco," he complied, bowing extravagantly and carefully picking up the boxes, disappearing in an instant with them.

"I don't believe she will appreciate that much, Draco." His state of calm was now replaced with annoyance, wondering what the hell his father wanted now.

"What do you know?" he said harshly, giving him a withering look before he turned back to the full-length mirror, adjusting the cravat.

"I daresay it is obvious what you have just giving her," Lucius said knowingly, malicious humour in his tone. "From what I have seen of her, she will probably faint at the sight of it."

Draco almost laughed at this image, wishing he could be in her room to witness her expression, but his father had made the joke, so he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction now. "It doesn't matter how she reacts," he replied steadily, "as long as she is aware of her duties, then I will be happy."

"I am sure you will," his father said in an annoyingly agreeable tone that irked Draco. "Since Parkinson left you five years ago, I suppose you will be happy."

Draco didn't even bother to look at his father as he took up his jacket. "In case you were unaware, father," he said, spitting that last word out with sarcasm, "but I don't have to be in a relationship with some idiot girl to get her into bed." He pulled his jacket on, and did the single button up with more concentration than he needed. Trying to block out his father was becoming quite a hard task, and he supposed it was because he knew that the time of his death was edging closer and closer, and his impatience was waning with every day that went by.

"Now, now, Draco," his father scolded, "there is no need to be defensive. At any rate, I have probably had more experience in my lifetime than you ever will, child, so don't presume to take a superior standing to me." Draco gave a disgusted look at his father's implications and rolled his eyes in an attempt not to kick his father in the face. Lucius took a hobbled step toward his son now. "Now, Draco, I didn't come here to argue with you," he said in a calm voice. "I have a gift for you."

Draco frowned at his father, apprehensive of what he could mean by this. "The last gift you gave me, father, turned out to be some kind of werewolf poison."

Lucius gave his son with a blank look, and Draco knew he was thinking, about what he would never know. "I was trying to help you, Draco, but we don't need to go into that now," he said flippantly, and he withdrew a small black leather box from his robe pocket. "It is a family tradition for fathers to pass down this heirloom to their eldest son on their wedding day, and so I am giving it to you now."

Draco took the box from his father's frail hand, feeling the expensive leather and he opened the box, revealing the small brooch that his father had worn ever since he could remember, usually as a clasp on his cloaks. He had never actually asked about it before, and had not taken much notice of it, but now it seemed to signify a turning point. Frankly, he was shocked that his father had actually decided to carry the tradition on when he could barely even acknowledge him, but there it was. "Thank you, father," he said without emotion, and he pinned it onto his cravat, the family crest at the forefront.

Lucius said nothing, seemingly lost in his own thoughts again. Perhaps he wished that he could embrace his son without forsaking all of his beliefs, but he knew that he wouldn't, and Draco knew it too; both of them knew that they could never reconcile even before his death. Family pride and loyalty to his blood status prevented that, and Lucius reminded himself that he was only doing this because Draco was the only son he had, if he had other children then the estate would have passed to them. Choosing to marry him off to a Weasley was not exactly desirable, but she came from good stock nevertheless and the werewolf blood would have to be eradicated from the family line somehow. He knew he could die quite happy in the knowledge that Draco was marrying Ginny Weasley, despite their family rivalries. And it was not a bad sign that Draco was sending her such gifts, at least he was attempting some kind of attachment on that head.

"I trust that you will be ready by eleven, Draco," Lucius finally said after watching his son preening himself in the mirror. "I doubt Miss Weasley will be taking much notice of your appearance, at any rate."

"I don't care what she thinks of my appearance," Draco said, his tone slightly defensive. "However, I also don't care to have my flaws showcased in the photos." He brushed the front of his jacket down, making sure there was no dust or fluff clinging to the material. "Do you have another witness?" he said suddenly, turning back to his father.

"Yes, old Nott owed me a favour," he replied with a flippant gesture of his hand. "I do regret that you couldn't have a large wedding; Malfoy's have always had extravagant weddings."

"Well, you could have bribed some people for me, you could have gone abroad, Imperio'd some foreigners for me," Draco said, a barely discernible bitter tone to his voice.

"You know very well that I can't travel, Draco," Lucius retorted. "No amount of bribery would have enticed anyone decent to attend, either."

"Well, then there was no point in mentioning it then, was there, father?" Draco replied sardonically.

Lucius decided not to argue, feeling increasingly tired with it. "We will be waiting, Draco," he simply said, taking up his stick, and limping from his son's bedroom.

Draco sighed with relief once he was alone again, and turned back to the mirror. He adjusted his cravat once more, looking at the pin and trying not to feel any kind of warmth toward his father for presenting him with it; he had only given it to him because family tradition dictated it, regardless of outside grievances. He supposed that once he could re-establish himself in the wizarding world, then he would pass it onto his own son in the hope that he wouldn't be pointed at and shunned by well-bred witches. This marriage had made him feel motivated to do something about his situation, at present he didn't know what, it wasn't as if he was going to strike down the Dark Lord and establish a new order; that would be impossible. His situation would have to be changed elsewhere in the world, where no one knew him. Yet, for the time being, he would have to remain in Wiltshire.

* * *

Ginny was growing frantic with desperation. She had woken up calm, believing that her plans to lure Malfoy in would be relatively easy to execute, but with ever increasing nervousness, she knew that it would be a difficult task. How could she even have thought to herself that sleeping with him would be easy? Firstly, she was a virgin, and second, she hated him, or at least didn't like him. But time seemed to be running away from her, every time she glanced at the clock, it seemed to be abnormally fast. For this reason, she could barely touch the breakfast that had been brought up to her, and she could hardly dress herself upon which she had allowed Daisy to take over.

"Miss, you must calm down," Daisy said abruptly. "You will make yourself sick."

"Well, that's easy for you to say, Daisy!" she burst out, causing the house elf to step back in surprise. "Listen, I'm sorry, it's just that I am not ready for this. You know how I feel about this, about Malfoy."

"I know, Miss, but you must do as you are bidden," the house elf said softly, returning to tying the back of Ginny's bodice. "It is for your own good; if it wasn't for Master Draco, you would be dead now."

Ginny rolled her eyes in aggravation. "I know all of that," she said impatiently. "It doesn't make it any easier to cope with. Ouch!"

"Sorry, Miss," Daisy said hastily, "But, the dress must be tightened."

"It damn well doesn't," Ginny replied, "I am not marrying Malfoy being unnecessarily uncomfortable."

The house elf seemed to be fighting with herself, but she did as Ginny requested after a short pause. "Your reasoning is understandable, Miss," she acquiesced. "Your dress is ready, and you look magnificent."

Ginny looked down at the near-gushing house elf, smiling a little as a thank you, but she struggled even with that slight twitch of the mouth. No amount of gratitude for saving her life could make her feel any more inclined to go through with this wedding. "I suppose you want to do my hair now?" she said, downcast.

"Of course, but first I must ask if you would like something to calm your nerves, Miss," Daisy said, her voice soft still, and understanding.

"I don't want any alcohol, Daisy, thank you," Ginny replied assuredly.

"Not alcohol, Miss," she shook her head vigorously, allowing her over-large ears to flap this way and that. "A potion; there are many remedies prepared in the kitchen. I would recommend that you take one."

Ginny sighed, but agreed with Daisy, allowing her to disappear and fetch the potion. If anything could make her forget or feel a little happier, just for a little while, then it would be worth it. She had to remember that making Malfoy trust her would mean that she could have greater access to the manor, therefore allowing her a greater chance of escaping and reuniting with Ron and Hermione, and hopefully Luna could greet her too. Daisy reappeared almost as instantly as she had left, and handed Ginny a delicate glass potion vial; the potion itself was a violent purple hue, but it gave off a pleasant, earthy scent. She immediately recognised it as a calming draught. "Let's hope this works," she muttered before downing it in a swift gulp.

Wiping her mouth hastily with the back of her hand, Ginny immediately felt the potion taking effect; her body seemed to relax in an instant and the headache that she didn't realise she had until it went was so alleviating that she sighed with happiness. She felt weightless; as if she could float without need for magic, and almost believed that she could do anything at that moment, perhaps even give a speech in front of thousands of witches and wizards. But all she needed to do was marry Draco Malfoy; now she felt with certainty that she could without any outbursts. Ginny was sure that she had never felt so calm in her entire life.

"Is it good, Miss?" Daisy said, drawing Ginny out of her daze.

"It feels amazing, Daisy," she breathed out with a smile.

The house elf smiled back at her, a childish look for the usually serious creature. "Then we can continue, Miss?" she asked, somewhat tentatively, as if doubting the potion's effects.

"Of course," Ginny answered, still smiling. And it was with willingness that she allowed Daisy to complete her hair and makeup, a task which took longer than usual as the house elf seemed bent on giving Ginny some kind of elaborate flower ornamentation in her style. After some time sitting there patiently, with an empty mind, a sharp knock at the door startled Daisy.

"I sincerely hope that is not Master Draco," she whispered hastily, blustering to the door and opening it slightly. "Thank goodness. What do you want, Ix?" She opened the door to allow the other house elf through the door, shutting it immediately.

"Master Draco wished me to convey these presents to Miss Weasley," he replied blandly, entering the room and placing the boxes upon the table near the fireplace. "Good morning, Miss Weasley," he said after putting them down, and bowing extravagantly before leaving them alone once more, not waiting for Ginny to open the gifts.

"How lovely, Miss, that Master Draco should think of you," Daisy said, as if trying to encourage a positive reaction from Ginny.

"Of course he should think of me," Ginny replied, "he's marrying me today." She went over to the presents, noticing that one was bigger than the other, and decided to take up the smaller one first; smaller presents were always the best in her opinion. Once she had removed the purple silk bow from the box, doubting that Malfoy had actually wrapped them himself, and ripped off the paper, she instantly knew that this present was going to be expensive just from feeling the leather of the box. Since she couldn't nervous, she allowed her curiosity to force her to open the box, and once she did she gasped at what was inside; truly, it was beautiful and probably worth more than her entire family home. It was a tiara, encrusted with pearls and what looked like crystals, simple but pretty. Upon closer inspection, she realised that there was a note in the box, alongside the tiara.

_Ginevra,_

_I am presenting you with this gift, in the hope that you will wear it with some pride. It was my mother's and I trust that you will take care of it as she did; doubtless, if she was alive, she would have passed it to you herself. Also, I fully expect you to be wearing this when you join me this morning._

_Draco. _

It was a request that wasn't too hard to comply with; wearing a tiara for him would be one of the easiest things he had asked her to do so far, so she asked Daisy to include it in her hairstyle once they continued. The second gift, the one in the bigger box, was wrapped with the same silk bow and paper. Again, curiosity allowed her to tear the paper off without being too nervous. Underneath the paper was another box, but it was a generic, branded box from a shop; she realised that the logo and the name underneath denoted that it was from the same dressmaker that had made all of her clothes. Ginny pulled the lid off and pushed back the tissue paper, revealing a square of white material.

"What's this?" she said to Daisy, allowing the house elf to come over and take a look. "Is it some Malfoy tradition?"

Daisy shook her head, a look of confusion on her face. "It is not one that I have ever seen, Miss. Why don't you take it out?"

Although she couldn't register any anxiety, she knew her body was feeling it by the dull ache in the pit of her stomach, her brain simply refused to take notice of it. Ginny touched the material; it was soft and flimsy, and she pulled it out of its neatly folded position, letting it unfold. What she saw made her heart bounce against her chest momentarily, and suddenly she felt the anger rising up from within her. Of course the potion paid no heed to her other emotions, it had only made her nerves still. "How _dare_ he send me such a thing?!" she said loudly, again startling Daisy. "Does he _think_ that I am some kind of... some kind of _scarlet woman_?!" Then she realised that Daisy was staring at the thing in her hands, and put it away hastily, her cheeks flushing pink. She really could not believe the audacity of him, to send her such an item of clothing! It would have barely provided any kind of cover for her... her intimate parts. Suddenly, she had the urge to march straight into his bedroom and backhand him across his perfect cheekbone, perhaps her engagement ring might scratch his skin while she was at it.

"Miss, you must try to control your anger," Daisy said in a placating tone. "The potion has dulled your anxiety, but you should be aware that it makes you liable to your other emotions; you must control yourself."

"Why on earth should I do that?" she said defensively. "Maybe it is about time he should be brought down a peg or two."

"Miss, you know that will get you nowhere," the house elf replied, her tone as sure as anything.

"Maybe so, but it will make me feel better," she said offhand, and with that she got up and strode toward her bedroom door, her breathing heavy with fury, until Daisy moved in her way, clicking her long fingers and locking the door. Ginny knew she had locked it because the door made a clunking, metallic sound as it had done when she had first been confined there. "Why did you do that?" she demanded.

"Because you will regret your actions, Miss Weasley," the house elf said firmly.

"I can have you punished," Ginny said rashly, immediately regretting it as she saw Daisy's face fall at her remark.

"I can punish myself, Miss," Daisy replied, "but I will not let you be punished by Master Draco if it can be helped."

Ginny looked at Daisy, feeling intensely disgusted with herself for even thinking such a thing. "I'm sorry, Daisy, I didn't mean that; you know I would never do such a thing," she said, shame marking out each of her words. "Isn't there any potion that will stop me from feeling or thinking about anything?"

"Not in our stores, Miss," Daisy replied, relaxing as she noticed that Ginny was backing down and returning to the vanity table. "If it helps, Master Draco can be a gentleman, if you will only give him a chance; I am sure that he doesn't want to make your life unpleasant."

Ginny couldn't believe it for a moment, but she smiled at Daisy anyway, not wanting to offend her judgement. "Shall we carry on?" she said, a little too chirpy after what had just happened, but it was enough for the house elf to be reassured by. Honestly, Ginny knew that she owed Daisy for stopping her; if she had gone barging into Malfoy's room then all hopes of getting him to trust her would have been dashed; and that was her primary mission, at all costs it had to be completed. But, that flimsy excuse for nightwear was obviously his way of saying that he fully expected her to participate in her nightly duties immediately. Being unable to feel anxiousness was a blessing at that particular moment, she was sure that she would have been physically sick if she hadn't just taken the calming draught, but it didn't prevent her from feeling embarrassed, despite that she sincerely hoped that Daisy could bring her some more before dinner, or else she would never be able to go through with it.

Ginny had been sitting for some time until Daisy finally announced that she was finished, to which Ginny felt relieved; sitting for such a long period was mind-numbingly dull, and staring off into the distance had lost its appeal in the first few minutes. Looking at herself in the mirror, Ginny really could not believe that she was seeing herself; knowing from Fleur's wedding that everything had to look just that much better for such an occasion, she wasn't really that surprised at the outcome, but seeing herself look so different was almost a shock. Her hair was perfectly perched into the style Daisy had chosen, the tiara holding her veil in place, and she appeared to be nearly flawless. It was simply a weird experience, and one she hoped would not be repeated.

"No, no, Miss!" Daisy said hastily as Ginny went to stand up. "I must cover your face."

"Oh, why?" Ginny asked, bemused. Fleur had never had her veil covering her face; it had just been part of her hairstyle, flowing down the back with her dress.

"To denote your status," Daisy replied simply, as if she should have known. "Your veil must then only be lifted by Master Draco. He will wish it, Miss," she added upon seeing the look of confusion on Ginny's face.

"Fine, I suppose it's not that big of a deal, anyway," Ginny acquiesced, sitting back down to allow the house elf to carefully throw the veil over her face. Now her whole head was covered by the translucent material.

"It is quite an important part of the marriage ritual, Miss Weasley," Daisy said in a firm voice. "It is nearly time; I have to escort you downstairs now."

Ginny just looked at her, trying not to think too much about the next few hours or about the fact that her heart, despite the potion, was pounding relentlessly against her ribcage. "Will you be there, too, Daisy?" she questioned hopefully.

"I am not allowed, Miss," Daisy said sadly, "but I will be watching through the door."

Ginny laughed at this, much to the confusion of the house elf. "That will have to do, then," she said once she had calmed down, and she allowed Daisy to lead her out of her room, feeling nothing at all now. And she greeted Lucius Malfoy with just about no emotion except disgust, as he was standing in front of the double doors that led to the ballroom.

"Draco will be pleasantly surprised," he said shortly, his voice sounding almost shocked at her appearance, but he hid it well. "You may go now, Daisy," Lucius said with a wave of his hand, not even condescending to look the house elf in the face or watch as she bowed in subservience to his wish.

"I presume you are giving me away," Ginny said carelessly, once Daisy had left them alone.

"You presume correctly," he answered with a smirk. "In the absence of anyone else suitable, of course I had to volunteer."

"How lovely of you," Ginny replied with a sarcastic smile.

"I do try, Miss Weasley." He looked down the hall at something; Ginny didn't care what as she was more focused on trying to discern any noises coming from the ballroom. "Ah, take my arm, it is time." Ginny swallowed hard, but did as she was bidden and looked down at her feet as the doors opened, determined not to look at Draco Malfoy as she was pushed ever closer to him.

* * *

As soon as those doors swung open, Draco fixed his stare upon the entrance and felt his breath hitch in his throat, an absurd reaction, he thought, but one that could not be helped. Really he could not believe how lucky he had been in having Ginevra Weasley sent to his dungeons. He had never much paid attention to her at Hogwarts; a lot of the boys fancied her, even those from Slytherin, but the fact that she seemed to worship the ground Potter walked on tarnished that prettiness and he couldn't quite ever get past that. Now Potter was dead, it was no longer a problem; the girl was beautiful, even the once ridiculed red hair was tolerable, even the freckles.

Draco did notice her apparent inability to look up, feeling as though he should be angry at this, but he wasn't; if anything, it made her look submissive, something that he knew was nearly impossible for her, being all bright and fiery. It was with great hope that he thought to himself that she could perhaps be turned around; perhaps she could learn and appreciate her state now. He was actually surprised she wasn't flailing about, trying to escape and insulting him profusely in the process, and it was from this that he dared to hope she wouldn't behave like that in the future either.

Briefly, he wondered with a smirk, how had she reacted to his little present? It was almost laughable the images that were entering his head, even more so the fact that her dress was modest in comparison to the delicately flimsy scrap of material he had provided her with. Draco rather wished that he had asked Ix to wait for her reaction and then report back to him, but he supposed imagining it was far more amusing than her actual response.

As she stopped beside him, she still didn't look at him and he guessed that it was her way of saying that she didn't approve, but he allowed it; he had to allow her some kind of petty vengeance. At least she had decided to lift her head to look at the official marrying them, which he thought was appropriate considering he had cost him a fair amount in bribery. Once Draco looked at the official, he began the ceremony abruptly, his voice loud in the near empty ballroom, but he managed to drown him out and speak where he was meant to speak. He heard Ginevra's acquiescence to the vows with pleasure, especially since there seemed to be no amount of trepidation or nervousness in her voice as he assumed there would have been. Frankly, he was grateful that she wasn't crying her eyes out. And, it all pointed towards a pleasant afternoon and evening, one in which she would submit to him willingly.

Suddenly, she turned to him, and he realised that he had been bidden to kiss his bride and the thought of it sent a thrill up through his spine, but he only allowed himself to lift her veil slowly. He was going to savour the moment and he was going to do it his way; his father could go and stuff himself for all he cared, _he_ was Master of the manor now. Ginevra just stared up at him, waiting. He looked at her lips, which were in his mind full and willing, and pulled her toward him, ignoring the hands on his chest as if to prevent his action, and the little gasp that escaped that same mouth just before his lips met hers sent another pleasurable thrill through his body.

Draco kept his eyes open, forcing her to close hers to escape his intense stare, and it was only then that he closed his and allowed himself to linger upon her lips and revel in the softness of them, as well as in her apparent willing participation. "Well done, Ginevra," he whispered against her mouth, and he let her go, knowing now that she was his.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for your reviews and well wishes concerning my exams; one of them seemed to go fine, but I have one more next Tuesday. Anyway, hope you all enjoy. Any reviews are greatly appreciated, even criticisms as I think it is essential for any writer to understand how his or her work is viewed by its readers.

These dresses show the kind of style I had in mind for Ginny's dress:

/dress/basilica/

catwalkrunways/carly2012/

wedding_dresses/8695

Also her veil is supposed to be a bit like Grace Kelly's and Kate Middleton's:

wiki/Wedding_dress_of_Grace_Kelly

brides/gallery/2013032911836/best-celebrity-weddin g-trains/1/

But, you can all just imagine what it looked like, I didn't want to describe it in great detail since so many would have different ideas on what is beautiful for a wedding. But, these were my inspiration.


	7. The Request

**Disclaimer:** The following is a work of fan fiction using characters from the world of Harry Potter, which is owned by J.K. Rowling. The characters, creatures and other related descriptions are also owned by J.K. Rowling. I will not be receiving any monies in relation to this fan fiction. I have also used the HP Lexicon for some minor details.

**Summary: **The aftermath of Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley's marriage has left both of them with unexpected feelings; but can Ginny really pull off a scheme of manipulation?

**THE WHOLE OF THE MOON**

**Chapter Seven: The Request**

Draco looked at his bride with an appreciative glance, looking perfectly modest in her gown and perfectly accommodating. She posed with him graciously and even on her own for the wedding pictures, one of which he would have painted in her honour, a mark of the completion of her induction into the Malfoy family. She had even allowed him a dance, something which he had thought she would vehemently object to, or at least express some distain for such a request. But, no, Ginerva had been quite the accommodating new bride and he hoped that this would last for the evening ahead, as well as continuing to be a pattern in their marriage.

On the whole, the wedding itself had gone very smoothly; old Nott hadn't grumbled too much and he had disappeared quite graciously when it was hinted to him that he was no longer needed or wanted. The only blight that remained was his father, who had insisted on joining them for dinner. Draco would have much rather preferred to have spent it alone with Ginevra, but he accepted his father's request with the thought that he wouldn't have to put up with him much longer. To be fair, if it wasn't for his father, then he would never have known of Ginevra's existence.

So, here they all were, sitting at the dining table eating a sumptuous dinner in silence. He would look at her occasionally to try and ascertain what she was feeling, but her look was as blank as unused parchment; he supposed that his father's presence was not exactly the most stimulating. It was very irksome that his father should impose himself upon them; how was he meant to seduce her when his decrepit father was sitting just across from them?

"Oddly, Draco, you two look very well together," his father suddenly said, a serious look on his face, which caught him by surprise since he assumed that the comment was edging toward a mocking tone. "We can only hope that your child does not inherit that aggressive hair colour, however."

Draco gave his father a withering look. "I think Ginevra's hair is rather beautiful," he replied, seizing the opportunity to compliment her, in the hope that she would think favourably of him. But, she continued to eat her food as if nothing had happened and no exchange had existed between himself and his father.

Lucius turned to Ginevra now, and Draco could feel himself tensing up in anxiousness at what was going to be said next. "So, Ginevra, have you thought of any names?" his voice sounded so syrupy sweet that Draco just knew he was doing it to rile them up.

Ginevra simply looked up at him and gave a breathtaking smile, one of which Draco had never witnessed in his entire life. "Well, no, sir, I haven't," she answered obligingly. "I was going to let Draco think of a name. I thought it would be appropriate, considering that we are likely to have a boy."

Lucius appeared to be completely taken aback at her response, having expected some scathing reply, and Draco was completely in awe of her. How had this change occurred so rapidly? Her behaviour was really inexplicable, but pleasing. "How accommodating of you, Ginevra," his father replied, still in a bit of a shock. "But, I assume that he will come up with some ghastly, unappealing name."

"If that is the case, then I shall call it by its middle name," she answered with ease, her face dead straight.

Lucius laughed then, quite unexpectedly. "You do think of everything, don't you, Ginevra?" he carried on chortling to himself, up until he started to cough from the effort.

"Don't you think it would be wise for you to retire now, father?" Draco said with a sigh; he was actually hoping that his father would realise that his stupid games were not going to work and would grow bored.

"I think I will," he answered, surprising Draco. He had thought his father would have some sort of malicious rebuke to such a suggestion, but there was nothing. "I am feeling quite tired, all of a sudden," he explained, and Draco noticed that his voice had become weak and his face appeared to have become more grey than it had ever been, but he didn't question him or his willingness to leave them. Hopefully, he was nearing his time. And it was with relief that he saw his father actually depart from them, fearfully thinking that he was just playing them. He looked over at Ginevra for the umpteenth time that evening, trying to glean her reaction to his father's sudden departure, but she simply gave a blank look as if she was not even concerned about what had just come to pass.

"Well," he began, "now that he's gone, we can finally _talk_." He gave her a suggestive look and leaned toward her, taking her hand without the slightest bit of resistance, and he became all the more excited because of it. Really, he felt he was reacting quite stupidly, but he just could not wait to have her laying beneath him, naked, and willing. "But, I think we should also go upstairs." Ginevra continued to look at him blankly, but stood almost immediately. "Now, now, Ginevra, not too fast," he chuckled, standing with her, "we mustn't rush, should we?"

"Why not?" she replied, and Draco was quite taken aback by her question as it seemed to be genuine.

"You are very eager," he said as if reprimanding her playfully, and he lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, "I approve. However, it would be proper to seduce you first." At his words, he felt her shudder ever so slightly that it was barely noticeable, but they had done their job.

"And, how will you seduce me?" she whispered back, her voice trembling a little which he translated into anticipation.

"Like this," he murmured, and he drew her body to his, his arm around her waist, closing the gap between them, lowering his mouth to her neck and kissing her lightly there, his other hand holding the back of her head and guiding it to allow him better access to her throat. The smell of her hair was overwhelming, but beautiful; it reminded him of the forest surrounding the manor, with its evergreens and wildflowers, and he just felt he had to pull her closer than was possible at that moment. It was also then that his instincts told him to pull her mouth to his, but before he could do anything else, she had managed to push him away.

"Can't we go upstairs?" she questioned, her eyes wide.

"If you wish it, then we will," and he swept her up into his arms, at which she gasped in surprise, a noise that he thought he would definitely come to enjoy hearing, and proceeded to carry her upstairs. "Since you have already crossed the threshold, I think it would be appropriate to carry you to my room instead." He continued smugly up the stairs, getting more and more excited by the minute. "And I have had your pretty little night things brought to my room; I expect you to wear them."

"W-what? That _slip_ of material you sent me earlier?" she sounded mortified now, a complete contrast to what she was just minutes before.

He laughed at her words. "Yes, that slip of material," and he could just imagine the look on her face now, hearing her reaction was good enough to invoke humorous images. "And we'll have no house elves to distract us." What Draco failed to see was the look of complete and utter horror on Ginny's face, whose heart was now beginning to beat so rapidly that it was visible if he had cared to look.

* * *

Ginny paced back and forth relentlessly, wishing to anyone that might be listening that Daisy would just appear automatically to her. She thought that it was very unfair of Malfoy to deny her the assistance of her personal house elf, particularly when she so desperately needed her now. There had been ample time to have taken another calming draught when she had been getting changed before dinner, but she wrongfully assumed that her state of quietude was still down to the potion she had taken in the morning. Ginny was not really sure when the potion had actually worn off, but she put her own ability to remain calm down to the marriage being gotten over and done with. For the millionth time, she cursed the potion for not having some kind of indication that its effects had worn off. And now that Draco had forbidden Daisy to attend to her, there was absolutely no chance of her being able to go through with this thing.

Alarmingly, that slip of material came into her view, that godforsaken excuse for nightwear. Malfoy had asked her to change into it and join him back in his bedroom. Currently, she was standing in his large bathroom, which exceeded her own in elegance and beauty, and all she could do was simply stand there, her legs shaking a bit. She gasped loudly when there was a sudden sharp knock on the wooden door.

"Ginevra, I hope you are not attempting to escape," came Malfoy's voice from the other side of the door.

Ginny gave a nervous laugh in response. "Oh, no... n-no, o-of course not," she called back, struggling to stop her voice from wobbling.

"Then why on earth are you taking so long?" he questioned impatiently. "Do I have to come in there?"

"No!" she said loudly. "I'll be finished in a minute, just wait."

"I have had to wait quite a long time, Ginevra," he answered back, his voice suddenly going all husky and it made her blush with embarrassment. "I doubt that I can wait for much longer."

Ginny really felt quite shocked at how forward he was being, he had never said such things before. "I am just trying to look my best, Draco," she finally called back, putting on her sweetest voice. "Now, don't come in otherwise I'll be upset."

She heard him chuckle, and the sound made her feel warm all of a sudden; it felt just like when she had first arrived and met him in the parlour. "As you wish, I will wait," he acquiesced. "But, don't make it too long, Ginevra." Malfoy had warned her, and now she had to make a decision. There was nothing she could do but go out there, there was no other possible solution; from this thought she felt like screaming at the walls for not offering up any way out. But, of course they wouldn't, they were on Malfoy's side, they wanted to see him married and they wanted him to continue ownership of the Manor. Stupid walls.

She walked slowly over to the bathroom door, and bent down to peek through the keyhole; her heart began to race as she noticed him pacing in front of the door, waiting and muttering to himself, worse of all, he was shirtless. It really was too much to bear, and even more so that she couldn't help but admit that he was attractive, something that she had been resisting to admit for so long. He _had_ changed since their schooldays, she thought, trying to redeem herself; his pointy features had softened and filled out with age, and he had become broader and toned, due to what she didn't really know since not many witches and wizards took part in anything too active aside from Quidditch, even that wasn't exactly enough to get into that state. Apart from that, Ginny just couldn't put her finger on what was making him appealing, because he was still a selfish and spoiled brat. At least, she assumed he still was.

Ginny looked apprehensively back at the nightwear that Malfoy had given to her; she would have to at least appear to have attempted some intimacy with him if he was ever going to allow her more freedom in the manor, and she had to remember that he had that power over her for the time being. It was a constant battle, having to remind herself of that little fact, but it had to be done. She just couldn't believe she had not realised that the potion had worn off, but she was even more shocked at the fact that she had been in a state of calm of her own accord. She stood up now, resolutely, deciding to just do instead of think, and she took her dress and shoes off, leaving them to one side and began to put on that ghastly piece of material.

There was no preventing that feeling of faintness that suddenly came over her when she looked upon herself in the mirror, and she felt foolish for reacting in such a way. She had been a Gryffindor, for God's sake! How could she be so cowardly?! But, it was the thought of actually having sex with him that terrified her; it was something you did with someone you loved, not with someone whom you were being forced to marry and imprisoned by. The act itself was supposed to be intimate, not a cold and distant act of duty. To top it off, no one had come close to seeing her naked, at least not in that way, and the experience was going to be humiliating even though she was quite happy with her body; the fact that Malfoy was going to be ogling it just made matters worse. Especially with that stare he loved to affect. That _stare_. Thinking about it made her shudder; she couldn't even explain why it made her feel so unnerved, it was as if he was trying to seduce her and insinuate that she would give into him. It was a knowing look was all she could label it as. He had done it earlier, when he had kissed her. Thinking back on it now, free from the drunken calmness of that potion, that stare had forced her into submission, despite all those alarm bells ringing in her head, her heart and her stomach, all at once. Malfoy had managed to make her kiss him back, short-lived though it was, but she had _enjoyed_ it. Truthfully, it felt wonderful to be able to just not _think_ and just do, not that she would ever admit that to him.

"Ginevra!" came his impatient voice again, and it made her jump with surprise, thinking that he had barged into the bathroom.

"I'm sorry," she answered immediately, calming herself and thinking about that last thought. She wasn't giving in really, she was just allowing it for the time being until she could escape. "I'll be there in a minute."

"You said that ten minutes ago," he replied in aggravation. "I am not a patient person, Ginevra, as I assumed you had realised."

Ginny frowned now, getting annoyed by his interruptions. "Well, I do think that I should be allowed some time to myself," she answered snarkily.

"Not when you are supposed to be in my bed," he replied.

"You can't pick and choose my leisure time," she said, now beginning to regret arguing with him; it had been going so well until she had decided to open her big mouth. And now he wasn't responding to her, which made her a little apprehensive. Then, quite suddenly, the bathroom door was pushed open aggressively, the door handle hitting the wall behind it with a horrible metallic sound.

"I think you'll find that I can," he said, his voice indicating that he was not going to tolerate her mouth, and he advanced on her. Ginny stiffened in response, not knowing where to turn and everything she had previously decided upon completely going out of the window, and now she became more and more apprehensive as she saw his facial expression change from anger to appreciation. "My, my, don't you just look a treat," he laughed then, "now, now, don't try and run, Ginevra, you've been doing so well."

Ginny was backing up quickly, looking behind every second or two, trying to locate some adequate place to get away from him, and silently cursing bathrooms everywhere for containing nothing but cleaning facilities! Desperately, she picked up her one of her shoes and held it defensively. "You stop right there, Malfoy!" she demanded. "I will throw this at you."

He looked at the pointy heel briefly, but smirked in response. "And what will that achieve? I will just cast it aside and take you, Ginevra," he said confidently. "I can make this a very pleasant experience for you. That kiss was enjoyable, wasn't it? I can make this just the same, if you will come to me willingly."

"Don't make assumptions about me, Malfoy," she threatened, his words piercing her heart; how could he have known how she had reacted to his kiss. It was unbelievable.

"And don't call me 'Malfoy', otherwise I might have to punish you," and he fingered the wand that was slotted into a wand-shaped pocket in his pyjama trousers. Ginny looked at him, wondering if he would follow through with that threat and, if so, what spell would he use? So far, he hadn't threatened to punish her for not getting into bed with him, a sure sign that he might be reluctant to do so, but she could prevent a probable horrific Cruciatus just by addressing him correctly. That was not an experience that she wanted to repeat. "Put the shoe down, Ginevra, we both know that I can obliterate it in a second with my wand, anyway, so why don't you just put it down and at least come with me to the bedroom."

"And do what?" she said suspiciously.

"It is cold in here, Ginevra, and I can see how cold you are," he answered with a little smirk. "We can just talk, if you like, in the warmth?"

"I don't believe you," she replied, blushing a little at his previous comment but determined to ignore it otherwise.

"You would be stupid if you did," he replied, and with a quick swish of his wand, the shoe was snatched from her hand and it clattered far into one of the corners of the room, and he laughed again as he quickened his steps towards her and swooped her up into his arms.

"Put me down, you beast!" she shrieked, her hands pushing against him in a futile attempt to get away, her nails scrapping his skin even, but he just continued to laugh at her in response. "Put me down, now!"

"Don't make me put a Silencing charm on that lovely little mouth of yours, Ginevra," he said humorously. "I'd be disappointed to do so."

"You are disgusting," she hissed, turning her face away as he tried to kiss her. Ginny was absolutely horrified at her current situation; it was not meant to happen like this at all, she was supposed to just lie there and ignore him, but all of this preamble was going to make it impossible now, not that she could have ever have just lay there anyway. She could not believe how naive she had been when planning her wondrous escape. With hindsight, she should have forced Daisy to set her free on the threat of death, but again, she would never have been able to do that either.

Malfoy dropped her onto his bed unceremoniously, and immediately moved to be atop her, preventing her from wiggling away. "This would be much easier if you just relaxed and accepted me," he muttered into her ear, his other hand holding her neck gently. "Let me show you how easy it can be." His voice was low and unbelievably soft, trying to coax her into his whims, but she resisted fiercely as she pushed against him. Malfoy responded by grasping her hands now and forcing them into the mattress, his own hands holding them down. "Forget about everything, Ginevra," he whispered, his lips brushing over her neck and down her chest, "forget about who we are and don't worry." With those words, he held her wrists in one hand and used the other to force her to look at him, in that moment he kissed her firmly, telling her immediately that he was never going to give up. And that single thought made her heart sink and her eyes wet with sudden tears; there was absolutely nothing she could do and that made her so angry with herself.

He looked down at her suddenly, a frown upon his face and she turned her face away once his grip was loosened. "I am not going to force you to do this, Ginevra," he said quietly, letting her hands go, but keeping her beneath him. "I was hoping you could be persuaded, but if you can't, then I will not force you; I'm not completely heartless."

Ginny stared at him, her eyes wide with shock at his admission. "What about your heir?" she said, still aghast.

He gave her a thoughtful look. "What about it? We are still going to have a child, Ginevra," he said firmly, a frown still upon his face. "I will give you a month to adjust to this, if you can't, then I have had a potion prepared to make you a little more, shall we say, _lustful_."

Ginny could not believe what she was hearing; he was going to allow her a whole month of preserved innocence, and with the potential to escape with it intact. This was too good to be true. "How do I know that you won't slip me it in my wine?" she said suspiciously.

"You will just have to trust me," he replied, getting off her and sitting up on the bed, a look of sheer disappointment etched into his features.

Ginny just sighed in response and got up, ready to leave the bed and get the heck out of there, but she gasped as she felt him grasp her wrist and yank her back. "You- you just said -!"

"I know what I said," he interrupted, his voice hard. "But, I didn't say you could leave my bed, did I?"

"Seriously?" she hissed.

"Yes, as much of a temptation it will be for me," he answered, smirking at her. "But, it must be done, otherwise how will you ever get used to me?"

Ginny just stared at him, thoroughly annoyed by his need to exert his authority. "How am I supposed to be certain that you won't try anything?"

"Again, you will just have to trust me," he muttered, moving closer to her and running a finger down her bare arm. "And if I really was going to do something, you being in another room would hardly make any difference."

Ginny ignored the touch. "Fine," she said simply, "I will stay here, provided you keep to your word."

"I will," he replied, humour in his voice at her attempt to retain some control. "Assuming that you retain your part of the deal?"

"What deal?" she said, frowning.

"My, my, you do have quite a selective memory," he laughed. "I will give you a month to appreciate your duties as a wife, if you can't do this by the end of the month, then you will take a potion that will allow you to appreciate them."

"How does either scenario benefit me?" she said, astounded that he was actually being serious about the potion he had had the audacity to purchase. Though, she supposed that he had rightly presumed that she would be unable to carry it through.

"When are you going to realise, Ginevra?" he said in a low voice, his mouth close to her ear and his arm moving almost unnoticeably around her waist to pull her in. "This whole situation benefits _me_; your benefit was your life."

Ginny just stared at the bedpost, feeling numb at his words because they were true; he had given her back her life and she was to give him back his. The prospect was not a good one, and she felt a failure; if only she had swallowed her pride and her fears then all this would have been over and done with, Malfoy would have been duped and she would have had a greater chance of getting out of the Manor. From now, she would have to think of some other way of escaping, something a bit more creative, something more... _Slytherin_.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for all your reviews once again. Now, it is time for the plans to go in motion.


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